Long Journey Back
by dawn341
Summary: Sequel to Welcome Back. Richie must recover from his long ordeal.


The Long Journey Back by Dawn Cunningham

I wrote this story a long time ago. Since the Highlander fanfic archive has disappeared, I'm starting to post my stories on other sites.

Disclaimers:

Duncan, Richie, Joe and Methos belong to Rysher. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it. All other characters are my own.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

Author's notes:

This story is a sequel to Welcome Back. I would strongly suggest that you have read this before reading this one. You don't have to, but it might make this one easier to understand. I've made references to several other of my stories, but here again, you don't need to have read them.

Believe it or not, this is the 20th story I have written. It is also the longest one, which seems appropriate.

* HL * HL * HL * HL * HL * HL

The Long Journey Back by Dawn Cunningham

"Nooooo!" The scream echoed through the barge. "Get away from me!"

Duncan pried one unwilling eye open. The interior of the barge was lit by one lamp near the thrashing body on the other bed. Reluctantly, he climbed to his feet, fighting the waves of weariness filling him as he went to the other Immortal.

"Richie," he said as he shook the young man's shoulder. "Wake up. You're having another nightmare." Just like the night before and the night before that. In fact, just like every night since he had brought the young Immortal back to the barge. Eight nights of interrupted sleep.

Richie woke with a gasp. He sat up, breathing heavily, and looked around frantically before turning wild eyes towards Duncan.

"Take it easy, Richie. It was just a nightmare," Duncan soothed, afraid to reach out and touch the younger man while he was in this half-awake state. He'd made that mistake the first night only to have Richie scramble away, terrified. In the process, the young Immortal had fallen off the bed, knocking over the nightstand and lamp with it, shattering the latter. In his efforts to put some distance between the two of them, Richie had managed to cut his wrist open on a glass shard. It had seemed to bleed forever and Richie had been too panicked to let Duncan near enough to try to stop the bleeding. It wasn't until he had passed out from loss of blood, that the Scot had been able to help him. Richie's Immortal healing had been greatly reduced, thanks to the trauma of being imprisoned for a year without food. The Highlander had paced around the barge for the rest of the night until Richie had finally revived.

Duncan continued to murmur calming phrases until Richie's breathing slowed down to normal and the terror had vanished from his eyes. He took the time to study the familiar and yet not-so-familiar person in front of him. Still emaciated from his ordeal, the young Immortal bore little resemblance to the student he had trained and nurtured. Ghost-white skin stretched taut over his skeleton, making bones clearly visible underneath. Dark circles under his eyes indicated that the Highlander wasn't the only one missing out on sleep.

Only the blue eyes, the curly red-blond hair, and the voice gave credence to the claim that this was really Richie Ryan. The Immortal that Duncan had met after he recovered from the Dark Quickening had been an impostor, cleverly changed with cosmetic surgery to look like Richie - and he had lost his head to Duncan at a deserted race-track a little over a year ago.

"Sorry, Mac," Richie apologized. "I guess I woke you up again."

"That's all right, Richie," Duncan replied, stifling a yawn with difficulty. "After what you've been through, it's no wonder you're having nightmares. Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Richie shook his head. "I don't think so."

Duncan sighed in exasperation. "You need to eat to get your strength back - to rejuvenate your healing powers."

"It wouldn't do much good, Mac," Richie said with a frown. "I don't think anything will stay down." He shuddered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Duncan asked. "Maybe it will keep the nightmare from coming back."

Richie shook his head again, turning his eyes away. "I don't remember what it was about."

Certain that he was lying, Duncan fought the urge to grab Richie by the shoulders and shake him until he told the truth. Instead, he backed away from the bed. "I'll make us some tea. Maybe your stomach will have calmed down enough by the time it's done."

"Listen, Mac, why don't you go back to bed? You need to get some sleep. You don't have to hold my hand every minute of the day and night. I'll be fine."

Duncan wanted to protest, but the resolute look on Richie's face told him it would be useless. He returned to his own bed, climbing in and pulling the covers up. It seemed impossible to keep his eyes open, but his brain was still going a hundred miles a minute.

During the two weeks they had stayed at Joe's, Richie hadn't had a single nightmare - at least not the kind that caused him to start screaming. Once the young man had been able to move without assistance from room to room, Duncan had brought him back to the barge. He could still remember the stunned look on Richie's face, as he took in the changed appearance of the interior. Duncan's attempts to remove distractions from his life during his battle with Ahriman had not gone over well with Richie. The young Immortal had done his best to hide it - making some smart-ass comment about who his decorator had been. Duncan had bought a second bed, but the room had suddenly seemed empty to the Scot after Richie's comments.

He and Richie had made a pact - that Duncan would take care of the younger man until he could take care of himself. They had both acknowledged that it wouldn't be easy. Richie had struggled to hold up his end, not complaining when the Scot had to help him shave and dress - even though it had been obviously hurtful to his pride. This morning they had celebrated when Richie had managed to find enough energy to shave himself.

It was time to face the facts. Despite any protests to the contrary, Richie must be afraid of him - in part thanks to the Dark Quickening. It had been the last time the real Richie had seen him, and Duncan had tried to take his head. And it probably hadn't helped that Duncan had taken the impostor's head, still believing him to be Richie.

Opening his eyes, he looked over at the other bed. Richie was lying there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling - making no attempt to even try to sleep. They couldn't keep going on like this. Richie needed his sleep to be able to grow strong again. Duncan needed his sleep to be able to protect the other Immortal.

Duncan reviewed, in his mind, the list of Immortals he could call on for help. Methos had already flatly stated that he wasn't a nursemaid. Grace Chandel would be good for the nursing side of it, but she couldn't defend Richie. Ceirdwyn would be a good choice, but she had her hands full with a new student. Amanda wasn't exactly the mothering type. His best bet would be Connor. Hopefully, Richie wouldn't associate the same bad memories with his kinsman and would be able to trust Connor to keep him safe. He knew, if he asked, that Connor would do it, but would his kinsman have the patience to treat Richie gently?

Duncan sighed quietly and placed one arm over his eyes to block out the light from the lamp. They'd learned about that phobia at Joe's. The first night, the Scot had shut the bedroom light off after Richie had fallen asleep. The young Immortal had practically ended up in hysterics when he'd woke up in the dark. Duncan hadn't realized anything was wrong, since he and Joe had gone out to the kitchen which was on the other side of the house. The picture that greeted his eyes when he had checked the guest bedroom later that night, having heard some kind of noise, still caused his stomach to churn. Richie had been curled up in a ball, rocking slightly, and uttering little animal-like noises. His eyes had been distant and he hadn't responded to his name. In desperation, Duncan had slapped the young man's face sharply. That had brought him around, but it had taken hours to calm him down.

When he stopped to think about it, it was pretty amazing that Richie could even stand to be in a room by himself. After a year of total isolation, Duncan would have thought the last thing the young Immortal would have wanted was to be alone. If anything, it seemed to be just the opposite. Several times, Richie had asked the Scot for a few minutes alone. Duncan had willingly complied, going up on deck where he could still hear if Richie needed help.

The only room that seemed to bother the young Immortal was the bathroom. The first time Richie had gone in, he'd automatically shut the door behind him. A moment later, the door had been flung open and Richie had almost raced out of the room, breathing heavily and looking like he'd seen a ghost. After much discussion, Duncan had removed the door from the hinges, placing a curtain over the porthole opposite the door to ensure privacy from the outside world.

With great determination, Duncan forced his mind to rest, and dropped off to sleep shortly afterward.

* HL * HL * HL

The next morning, Duncan placed a phone call to Joe, asking him to come over and stay with Richie while he went grocery shopping. It wasn't safe to leave the young Immortal alone since he would be easy game to any other Immortal. Joe would be some protection - he wouldn't hesitate to shoot another Immortal should he threaten Richie.

Calling out to Richie to hurry up in the bathroom, Duncan slid two omelets onto warmed plates. He had tried to get the other man to eat porridge in the morning, but Richie had turned his nose up at it. It seemed like a constant battle to find something nutritious that he would eat and still provide him with much-needed calories.

Hearing the water still running in the shower, Duncan went to stand by the bathroom door, staying far enough away to give the young Immortal some privacy. "Richie? Is everything okay?" Several long moments passed and he finally look inside. Through the clear shower curtain, he could see Richie sitting on the stool he used when showering. "Richie? Is everything okay?"

After an eternity Richie finally shook his head. Duncan moved over and slid the curtain aside. The young man looked up at the older, tears running down his face. One half of his face was still covered with shaving cream, while the other side showed where the razor had been.

"What's wrong?" Duncan asked. "Did you run out of energy?"

Richie nodded reluctantly.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Richie. You had a bad night - a little setback is only to be expected. These things will just take time. Let me help you." Gently, Duncan reached for the razor and finished the job. "Do you need your hair washed?"

"No," Richie replied. "I did that first. I'm sorry, Mac, I know this isn't any fun for you - having to do everything for me."

"Stop apologizing," Duncan said with a frown. "You'd do this for me - wouldn't you?" Richie nodded without hesitation. "Then let me do this for you. No guilt. No apologies. A simple thanks will do." He shut the water off and grabbed a towel to dry the young man. Helping Richie out of the shower, he hustled him into a robe and then supported him as they walked out to the living area. "C'mon, you can dress after breakfast. The food is getting cold."

* HL * HL * HL

Duncan watched as Richie played with his food. So far the young man had only eaten a few bites. "Try to eat some more," he finally said in exasperation. "How do you expect to get better if you don't eat?" He stood up and fetched more orange juice before returning to his seat on the floor next to Richie.

Richie kept his eyes on his plate as he took another bite. "Is this worth it?" he asked after swallowing.

"Is what worth it?" Duncan asked in confusion, placing his juice glass down on the low table in front of him.

"Is my life worth all this trouble? It's gonna take months before I can take care of myself." Richie paused for a moment, still refusing to look at the Highlander. "Maybe the best thing would be if you just took my head, or maybe have Methos do it if you can't."

For several long moments, Duncan stared at his friend in shock. "Do nae think such things, Richie! Your life is worth any kind of trouble!" He reached out and grabbed the young man's arms. "Why would you ever think it wasn't?"

Richie struggled briefly, but couldn't free himself. His eyes shifted away to stare at the opposite wall. "Listen, Mac, I didn't have much of a chance to survive very long in the Game before, when I was in good health. I died too young, my body hadn't fully matured yet. I know that. Plus, I'm competing against guys with decades or centuries of experience. Now I have months and months before I'll even be at that same level again. You might be willing to wait on me hand and foot right now, but for how long? How long before you begin to resent me? How long before you try to pass me off on someone else?"

Duncan forced back the guilt flooding through him. Even though he had been thinking of sending Richie to someone else, it was only because of the nightmares. It wasn't because he was tired of taking care of the young man. In some ways, he felt he owed Richie for letting the impostor fool him. If he hadn't, he might have been able to find and save the young Immortal. But it was more than that. Richie was his friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was the closest thing to a son that he had ever had. Duncan released the young Immortal's arms as he tried to decide what to say. He took a deep breath before he began.

"Richie, you're right when you say we have months ahead of us before you can defend yourself against another Immortal. That doesn't mean you won't be able to take care of yourself as you get better. Soon, you'll be able to shower and shave without assistance. You'll be able to do a lot of things on your own. It won't seem quite so bad then. I want you to understand this - you are my friend. I've already lost you once - I don't want to lose you again."

Richie looked the Scot directly in the eyes for the first time since the conversation started. "Mac, sooner or later you will lose me. Wouldn't it be better to happen now, before you get used to having me around again?"

"It doesn't work that way, Richie. The minute I accepted that I killed an impostor, it was almost like I hadn't lived through your death - it just seemed like a bad nightmare. Oh, I still remember the pain and the heartache, but I don't feel it anymore. I know I will go through the same thing again, if you die. And, hopefully, that won't happen for a very long time. Something else you should think about - maybe there's a reason you're still alive. You've defeated Immortals with centuries of experience. You've survived a grueling ordeal with your sanity intact. Some would say there must be a reason - something you are destined to do. I don't know if it's true, but maybe we should wait and see."

"Whoa, Mac, you're beginning to really weird me out. Next thing you'll be telling me is that our lives are pre-destined. And that we can't change our destiny no matter what."

"I don't think so. All I'm asking at this point is for you to have a little patience. Things will improve. Can you do that?"

Richie nodded and gave him a small grin. "Okay. I guess I just let things get to me this morning. It was such an upper yesterday when I shaved myself, and when I couldn't do it this morning..."

"Just remember there will be good days and bad days. We should be grateful for the good days and endure the bad ones. I just don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about giving up your head." He pulled Richie into a brief hug. "Now, since breakfast is pretty much shot, how about getting you dressed?"

* HL * HL *

Several hours later, Duncan glanced out the porthole when he heard a car door shut. "There's Joe. I'm going to go buy groceries. Try to get some rest while I'm gone, Richie."

The young Immortal nodded in agreement from where he was lying on his bed and Duncan grabbed his coat before heading outside. He met Joe coming up the gangplank. "Hello, Joe. Thanks for taking over guard duty."

"No problem, MacLeod." Joe patted his coat pocket. "I'm well prepared to defend him if need be."

"If an Immortal does come..." Duncan started.

"I know. I know. Shoot him and then get Richie to holy ground. I've got it covered, MacLeod," Joe insisted. He looked closer at the Immortal. "You look like hell. What's wrong?"

Duncan shrugged. "Richie keeps having nightmares. Neither of us has had a decent night's sleep since we came back here. He won't tell me what they're about, but my best guess is that he still thinks I'm going to take his head. It's the only answer I can come up with. I was going to ask Connor to come take care of him, but after a conversation Richie and I had this morning, I don't think it would be a good idea. He'd take it as rejection and probably ask Connor to take his head."

"Richie wouldn't do that, would he?" Joe asked, consternation filling his face.

"He told me this morning that maybe it would be best if either Methos or I would take his head. Hopefully, I've convinced him otherwise." Duncan sighed. "I don't know what to do, Joe."

"It sounds like you're caught between a rock and a hard place, Mac. I'll talk to Richie and see if I can find out where he's coming from."

"Thanks, Joe. I'll see you later." Duncan strode quickly down the gangplank and to his car.

* HL * HL *

Richie sat up and put some pillows behind his back when Joe came through the door. "Hey, Joe, how's it going?"

"Not too bad, Richie, not too bad. But I hear you've been having nightmares."

Richie grimaced. "It figures that Mac would tell you. Yeah, I've been having a lot of nightmares and it really has me worried. Mac isn't getting enough rest, Joe. If another Immortal did challenge him, Mac wouldn't be at his best. I don't want him losing his head over this. You've got to help me, Joe. I need to find some place on holy ground where I can go to get better."

Stroking his beard reflectively, Joe sat down on the bed next to Richie. "Have you told MacLeod you want to do this?" he finally asked.

"No," Richie mumbled. "I know he won't be happy about it, but I have to do something."

"Hmmmm. Maybe MacLeod can sleep during the day when you're awake."

Richie shook his head in frustration. "I don't know why, but he acts like he has to hold my hand all the time I'm awake. That won't work, Joe. I've tried to get him to do that. Besides, I can only stay awake for a few hours at a time. That wouldn't give him enough time to sleep."

"All right. How about I spend some time over here every day and let MacLeod go back to my place to sleep? Do you think he'd do that?" Relief washed through Richie. "You'd do that for him, Joe? That would be great. Now all we have to do is convince Mac."

"I'd do that for both of you, Richie. It's as much for you as it is for him. But what we should concentrate on is why you are having the nightmares. Why don't you tell me about them?"

Richie swallowed heavily as bile rose in his throat. "Trust me here, Joe. You don't want to know. They're pretty bad. I don't want to gross you out."

Joe shook his head. "I don't think that would be possible, Richie. Between Vietnam and being a Watcher, I think I can handle just about anything you can come up with."

For several long moments, Richie searched Joe's face, trying to decide what to do. "Rats. It's always about the rats," he finally blurted out. "I'd wake up from the dead, and they'd be... they'd be..."

Joe nodded. "I understand, Richie. You don't have to spell it out."

"It gets worse, Joe. Sometimes, I was so hungry I'd..."

The Watcher held up his hand. "I get the picture. You shouldn't blame yourself. When a person is hungry enough, they'll eat just about anything. Besides, in some countries, rat is considered a delicacy."

"I don't really blame myself. It's just these nightmares. If it isn't rats crawling all over me, it's Mac serving them to me on a silver platter. I don't know why I keep having them, but I do." Richie sighed heavily. "I never, *ever*, want to see the movie 'Ben' again!"

"I don't blame you, Richie." Joe reached out and patted the young man's shoulder. "Why haven't you told MacLeod what your nightmares are about?"

"Oh, right. How am I supposed to tell him? He'd never let something little like rats bother him. And it's not like there's anything he can do about it."

"I think you might be surprised at what would bother MacLeod. And maybe talking it over with him would have helped you. At the very least, you would have set his mind to rest. He thinks the reason you won't talk about the nightmares is because they are about him taking your head."

"Oh, man," Richie moaned. "I had no idea. . ." Leave it to Mac to take on more guilt.

"You have to remember who you're dealing with, Richie. Sometimes, I think MacLeod likes to wallow in guilt," Joe said, echoing Richie's thoughts. "Just promise me that you'll have a talk with him when he gets back, okay?"

"Sure, Joe. I promise."

The Watcher grinned at the younger man. "Thanks, Richie. So, how are we going to occupy ourselves while MacLeod is out scouring the grocery stores for rats?"

"Not funny, Joe." Richie scowled at the Watcher. "Let's see. I guess we can play chess."

Joe made a face. "Isn't there something else to do?" He looked around the room. "Hmmm. No TV, no radio, no books. What do you and MacLeod do all day?" he asked with a frown.

"We play chess or just talk. And I take a lot of naps," Richie said, somewhat defiantly. "It's not like Mac can run over to the video store and rent movies. He doesn't want to leave me alone and unprotected." The truth of the matter was, Richie had been starting to get bored, but hadn't said anything to Mac. He didn't want to be any more of a burden on the Highlander than he already was.

"No wonder you're having nightmares. You need to give your brain a workout. I can't leave you alone right now, but I'll call Methos and have him bring something over. Are there any board games that you like? Or what about books?"

Richie thought for a moment, trying to remember the last time he'd done something so simple as play a game. "I won a Monopoly championship once," he said, smiling at the memory. "And Tessa and I used to play Scrabble a lot, too. We always argued over whether she could use French words or not. As for books, I really didn't read too much, but I did like mysteries." Richie yawned. "Sorry, Joe."

"Don't worry about it. You lie down and try to take a nap. I'll go out on deck to call Methos so I won't disturb you. By the time he gets here, you'll be all rested and you can show me your stuff."

Richie nodded and slid down on the bed. He watched as Joe pulled the blankets up around him and tucked him in. "Thanks, Dad," he said, grinning broadly.

"Watch it, kid." Joe wagged a finger at him before heading for the outside door.

Richie closed his eyes, wondering what he would have done without friends like Mac and Joe.

* HL * HL * HL

Once on deck, the Watcher found a chair and dragged it to a sunny spot that still gave him a view of the gangplank. He gingerly lowered himself into it. MacLeod would be pleased when he got back and Joe told him that the nightmares weren't about the Highlander taking Richie's head. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Methos' number.

"Hey, it's Joe," he said when Methos answered. "I need a favor."

"Oh, no. Not another headless person found alive!"

Joe chuckled. Methos had been the person the Watcher had recruited when he'd heard about Richie being found dead on a deserted Paris street. "Nothing like that - this will be much easier. I'm baby-sitting Richie and we're bored. Could you pick up some things for us?" Joe didn't wait for agreement, he just barreled on. "Let's see. Get several games including Monopoly and Scrabble, plus a couple more. I don't know what - use your best judgment. Also a couple of the latest mysteries that have been published - in English, I might add. Oh, and maybe a few motorcycle magazines while you're at it."

"And where would I pick up all these things?" The sarcastic tone was quite evident.

"At a store - preferably one which carries American items. Where did you think? And don't worry, I'll pay you back for whatever you spend - within reason."

"I have a better idea, Joe. Why don't I send over the DeLucci twins? I'm sure they can manage to keep the two of you from being bored without my having to run around and shop for you."

Joe laughed, remembering the two red-headed bombshells that Methos had brought into the bar about a month ago. "Just keep them on the back burner, Methos. Right now, I think Richie's mind would be willing, but I don't think his body would be. And I'm not sure whether I could handle both of them by myself either."

Methos made a rude noise. "Spoilsport. All right, Joe, I'll do it. But you're really racking up the favors here."

"As I recall, I'm doing you a big one right now. After all, you're not a Watcher anymore, but I'm letting you dig through the Chronicles."

"It's your theory, Joe."

"Yeah, but think about all the good it will do Immortals if it's true."

"Okay, okay. I'll go shopping. I assume you're at the barge?"

"Yes. Thanks, Methos," Joe said before hanging up. Now all he had to do was wait, but he was good at that.

* HL * HL * HL

Duncan turned down the street leading to the barge. He'd been gone longer than planned, but it had taken time to find some of the items he wanted. Trying to come up with menus to entice Richie to eat, but were still nutritious had been a real challenge. It didn't help that he never had room after eating for a treat like pudding or ice cream. And if he ate the treat before the meal, it also filled him up.

Spotting the lone figure sitting out on the deck of the barge, Duncan quickly parked the car and dashed towards the gangplank. There were only two reasons he could think of for Methos to be here. The first being Joe had called in reinforcements because Richie had sensed another Immortal. The second was even less pleasant. What if Richie had called the Immortal and asked him to take his head? Would Methos have done it? Would he have hung around to tell the Highlander what he had done?

"What are you doing here?" Duncan growled at Methos.

"Ahhh, the age old question. Why do we exist? I'll let you know the answer just as soon as I figure it out."

Duncan clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and pulling Methos to his feet. "I meant why are you here on the barge? Did Richie call you? Did you do what he asked?"

"And what would that be?" Methos raised one eyebrow in question.

"Methos! Can't you answer a simple question without asking another? Why are you here on the barge?"

"Joe called me. Seems he and Richie were bored, so he wanted me to bring some things over. I had to go to three different stores before I found what they wanted. Really, MacLeod, after seeing the interior of this barge, it's no wonder he was bored. There's not even a television set. I just don't know about the youngsters these days - they can't live without their daily ration of mindless drivel."

Duncan felt a flush creep up over his cheeks. He hadn't thought about that. "I'll go buy one," he muttered sheepishly.

"Not to worry. He's been too busy trouncing Joe in Monopoly." Methos waved towards the living quarters.

"Good. Listen, it's possible that Richie might ask you to take his head. He's feeling pretty helpless right now and it's starting to get to him. Under no circumstances should you give in to him. Is that understood?"

"Clear as a bell. Don't harm a hair on your precious student's head. I'll have you know that when I heard him scream as I got here earlier, I came tearing up the gangplank, prepared to defend him or die. Those are some nightmares he's having."

"He had a nightmare while I was gone?"

"Yes. Nasty one. Rats and the like."

"Rats? He's having nightmares about rats?" Duncan felt a rush of relief run through him. The nightmares weren't about him taking Richie's head.

Methos looked reflectively out over the water. "Did you ever notice that the waterfront has a very distinct smell and sound, MacLeod? Even blindfolded, you'd be able to tell you were by the Seine."

"And?" Duncan was sure Methos was trying to get some point across in his usual subtle way. Sometimes he wished the oldest living Immortal would just spit it out.

"That warehouse where Richie was imprisoned was along the waterfront, too. Now, take Joe's house. You can't smell the river from there."

"Of course. That's why he's having nightmares here and not at Joe's house. This place reminds him of that hellhole. I just have to find someplace else for him to recuperate."

"Sometimes you just amaze me, MacLeod. I wonder why I didn't think of that?" Methos quipped.

"Thanks anyway, Methos. Now, come help me bring up the groceries."

"And why should I do that? I'm quite comfortable where I am."

"Because one of the sacks has beer in it. I bought it for Joe, but I suppose I could spare you a bottle or two."

Methos rose to his feet. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

Between the two of them, they managed to carry all the grocery sacks on board in one trip. Once inside, Duncan noticed Joe and Richie sitting on the young Immortal's bed, still busy playing. "Who's winning?"

Joe groaned. "He is. He already sent Methos to the poorhouse and he's close to bankrupting me."

Richie laughed. "Just lucky."

Duncan watched the cheerful expression on the young man's face for a while before turning to Methos. "Something you forgot to tell me, old man?" he asked with a smirk. "I only heard about Joe getting trounced."

Methos had busied himself digging through the sacks. "I'd never played before. What did you expect? I just wanted to see what all the hoopla was about the game." He pulled a bottle of beer out of a sack, took it into the living area, and perched on the elevated platform that held Duncan's bed.

"So, MacLeod, now that you *think* you know why Richie is having nightmares, what are you going to do about it?" Methos asked once Duncan had finished putting away the groceries.

"You know why I'm having nightmares?" Richie asked, all interest in the game put aside for the moment.

Duncan glared at the older Immortal. "It's just a theory. It's possible this place reminds you of where you were imprisoned. Therefore, you have nightmares about being back there."

Richie looked around the barge. "Sorry, Mac, but this isn't anything like my little closet."

"No, I mean being on the waterfront. You could probably smell the river and hear boats passing by."

"Oh." Richie paused as he thought about it. "I guess we could go back to the States," he suggested.

"I thought of that, too," Duncan replied. "But you're not ready for that kind of trip yet. When you're stronger, we'll go back."

"Yeah. We can stay on the island. It's holy ground and I'll be safe there whenever you need to go buy supplies or attend to business."

Duncan stared at his friend in amazement. The island wasn't one of Richie's favorite spots, especially after their disastrous first trip there. But it was the perfect solution for them and Richie was showing a lot of maturity by thinking of it. "That's a great idea, Richie. For now, I have a friend who rents out places to visiting VIPs. I'm sure she'll be able to find us someplace around here. If you two are willing to stay and keep Richie company for a while, I'll go see her."

"Now that there's beer in the fridge, I don't have a problem staying here," Methos said as he saluted Duncan with the bottle in his hand.

"And I want a re-match," Joe declared.

* HL * HL *

Ninety minutes later, Duncan returned to the barge. As he came up the gangplank, he felt the touch of other Immortals. A moment later, Methos emerged from the barge.

"Oh, it's just you," he said before ducking back inside.

Duncan followed him in just in time to hear Methos complaining.

"That is *not* a word! You're not going to get a triple word score for something you made up."

Richie smiled. "Look it up. It's in the Scrabble dictionary." He pointed to the large volume lying on the bed by Methos.

The oldest Immortal quickly flipped through the book before closing it with a slam. "All right, all right. Qua is a word. How did you know it anyway? I'm sure they didn't teach it to you in your high school."

"When you play the game long enough, you get to know all the words that you can use the letter Q on," Richie explained.

"Does this mean Richie has trounced you two on Scrabble, as well?" Duncan asked as he walked over to the bed.

Joe peered down at the scorecard. "No, but he just pulled into the lead with that last word. It's a close game."

"Hmmmph," Methos muttered. "It would be a different story if I could use words in any one of a dozen different languages."

"Sorry," Joe replied with a grin. "English only. Those are the rules."

Richie turned an expectant look at the Highlander. "Did you find someplace?" he asked.

Duncan nodded. "There wasn't much of a choice, but I think you'll like this one. Indoor pool, Jacuzzi, sauna, library, game room, weight room, six bedrooms, and a live-in English-speaking housekeeper. The only problem is, it's almost a three hour drive from Paris. Joe, would you be interested in coming along? There's more than enough room."

Joe glanced back and forth between Duncan and Methos. "I'd love to, MacLeod, but Methos and I are working on a... a project together."

"There's room for you, too, Methos." Duncan turned pleading eyes towards his friends. He needed to have someone else close by whom he could trust with Richie's life, if necessary.

"Sure. Why not? Just have plenty of beer on hand," Methos replied as he continued to study the game board. "Ha!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I've got you now, Ryan. Xebec - and that's a triple letter score on the X and a double word for sixty-four points." He turned back to Duncan. "It will take us several days to get all our notes packed up and things organized, but then Joe and I can drive down together."

Duncan smiled with relief. "That's fine. We can't take possession until tomorrow anyway. Richie and I will drive down in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe replied. "If you'd like, Richie can stay in my guest bedroom tonight."

Duncan nodded his head in agreement. "If you don't mind, I'll stay, too. I can sleep on your couch for one more night."

The Highlander set about packing duffel bags with his and Richie's clothes - not that the young man had many. He could come back in the morning and pick up the food he'd just bought. No sense in leaving it here to be spoiled.

* HL * HL * HL

"Richie, wake up," Duncan said, lightly touching his friend's arm. "We're here." The younger Immortal had managed to sleep through most of the car trip. He found it slightly surprising, since Richie had also slept soundly through the night with no signs of any violent nightmares. The sleep had done them both a world of good.

"Already? We just left," Richie muttered as he rubbed his eyes, looking very much like a young child awakened from a nap.

Duncan laughed. "No, you just slept through the trip. C'mon." He climbed out of the car and went around to the passenger side to assist Richie. Keeping one arm around the young man's waist, he helped him climb the stairs to the front door. Richie was breathing a little more heavily by the time they got to the top of the five steps and a light sweat had dampened his forehead. "You okay?" he asked as he rang the doorbell.

Richie nodded. "Just a little out of shape," he wheezed, managing a slight grin at the Highlander.

The front door opened and they turned to face the woman standing there. "Can I help you?" she asked in a clipped British tone, her face taking on a disapproving look as she looked at them.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod and this is Richie Ryan. Jeanne-Marie Briard rented this place to us. She said she'd contact you to let you know we were coming." He turned on his most engaging smile, but it didn't even faze the woman.

"Of course. Please come in. I'm Mrs. Bricker, the housekeeper. My son, Nathan, takes care of the grounds. He'll bring your bags in later."

Duncan studied the woman. She looked about 50, gray hair, medium height, and bone thin. He hoped she could cook, but if she could, she obviously didn't eat her own results. Her face appeared to be frozen into a forbidding frown.

"How many bedrooms will you require?" she asked, icicles dripping from her words.

"Two for now, but we'll need two more in a few days when some friends join us," Duncan explained, confused at her question.

"Then I suppose you'll want adjoining rooms?" She gave a disapproving sniff at the question.

"Yes, that would be nice," Duncan agreed, still not sure what her problem was. If this was the way she treated all renters, he was surprised they had any.

"Very well. This way, please." She headed towards the staircase to the right of the entrance.

"Uhhh, Mac," Richie said, pulling back a little. "Maybe I could wait down here for now. I don't think I'm quite ready to climb that mountain right at this moment."

Duncan looked up the imposing staircase and had to agree. "Mrs. Bricker, could we see this floor first?"

"Of course." She led them in the opposite direction. "This is the drawing room. Through that door is the library." She pointed out the direction. "Follow me."

"Uhhh, I'll just wait here," Richie said as he sank down on one of the chairs. "You go ahead."

"Sure, Richie. This won't take long." Duncan turned and followed Mrs. Bricker back out to the entranceway. She quickly showed him the dining room, the stairs leading to the basement which housed the gym, the game room, and the laundry. Next came the door leading to the pool area, and finally the kitchen.

"This is my territory," she announced almost defiantly. "I don't allow anyone in my kitchen except on my day off."

"I brought along some supplies with me. I hope you don't mind," Duncan said. "I'd just bought them and they would have spoiled before we got back." He tried another smile, but her frown grew even bigger.

"Pardon me for being forward, but I really must know. Does Mr. Ryan have AIDS? I will need to take special precautions if he does."

"AIDS?" Duncan sputtered. Suddenly, her previous comments made sense. She thought he and Richie were lovers. "No, he doesn't have AIDS. He had... intestinal cancer. That's why he's so thin, but he's beat it. He just needs to recuperate. That's why we're here. And to make it quite clear, we are *not* lovers! He's a very good friend and I'm trying to help him with his recovery."

Mrs. Bricker's face cleared. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that... Does he need any special diet or anything like that?"

"No, but he can only eat small quantities at a time. He was fed through a tube for a long time and his stomach can't handle much yet," Duncan explained in terms she could understand. He wasn't about to tell her the truth. "He also tires very easily. Those stairs are going to be a problem for a while."

"There is a lift in the library that will take him to any floor," she volunteered.

"Really? Yes, that will be a big help. Shall we go back and get Richie?" Duncan followed her back to the drawing room. "You're in luck," the Scot told Richie. "There's an elevator, so you won't have to climb those stairs until you're ready for them."

Richie smiled gratefully. "That's good. I was beginning to think you'd have to carry me up them."

"I would have, you know," Duncan informed him.

"I know." Richie smiled brightly at his friend. "But you're getting a little old to be lifting heavy weights."

Mrs. Bricker giggled and Duncan turned to stare at her in amazement. Gone was the disapproving look. In its place was a maternal gleam. Another woman to fall victim to the Ryan charm.

"Oh, Mr. Ryan, I can tell you're a real character."

"Call me Richie," he insisted with another grin.

"All right, Richie. Now why don't I show you your bedroom. You could probably use a rest."

"Thanks, Mrs. Bricker." A few minutes later Richie stood in the doorway leading to his bedroom. It was almost as big as the barge. "Wow! This is some room." A king-sized bed dominated one end, while the other was set up as a sitting area, complete with television and VCR. French doors opened onto a balcony overlooking a garden area.

"Through that door is the bath and Mr. MacLeod's room is on the other side. You'll be sharing the bath, but Mr. MacLeod *did* ask for adjoining rooms."

"Please, call me Duncan," the Scot insisted. "And it's no problem to share the bath." He went over to check out the room. "Especially one this big." There were two sinks, a commode, a bidet, and a large tub/ shower combination. Both doors opened outward, so there wouldn't be a problem leaving one or both of them open. He had worried about Richie's claustrophobia and how they would handle it here. He'd felt the young Immortal tense up when the elevator doors had closed and had been grateful Richie had managed to contain his fears for the short trip.

"Can we get a stool of some sort that can be put in the tub?" he asked turning back to the housekeeper. "It makes it easier for Richie to shower that way."

Mrs. Bricker thought for a few moments. "Of course, I have just the thing. I'll have Nathan bring it up later. Now, Richie, why don't you lie down for a while and I'll bring you some hot chocolate and a croissant for a snack."

"Thanks, Mrs. B." Richie headed for the bed.

Duncan waited for the explosion at the shortening of her name, but Mrs. Bricker just giggled again before leaving the room. He shook his head as he went and pulled the afghan folded across the foot of the bed over Richie. "You won't believe this, Richie, but she thought we were lovers and you had AIDS!"

Richie looked shocked for a moment, then laughed. "Well, after all, you had an arm around my waist, Mac. People will talk." He wagged a finger at the Scot. "You have to be more discreet. So, what did you tell her?"

Duncan filled him in. "We need to keep our story straight. And we'll have to fill Joe and Methos in when they get here. Oh, and we'd better watch it and only call him Adam whenever she's around."

"Sure, Mac." Richie's eyes fluttered shut, then bounced back open. "How much is this costing you? Places like this can't be cheap!"

"Don't worry about it, Richie." Duncan reached down and ruffled the young man's hair. "It's worth it if we can both sleep through the night without any more nightmares."

Richie gave him a troubled look before closing his eyes again.

* HL * HL * HL *

Three days later, Joe and Methos arrived. They quickly settled in and commandeered the library for their research project, but they refused to discuss what it was. Richie was being pampered by Mrs. Bricker and for the first time since the young Immortal had escaped, Duncan found himself with time on his hands.

One day, a week after Methos and Joe had arrived, he decided to investigate the nearby village. Wandering through the marketplace, he found a table filled with sweatshirts. Deciding to buy a couple for Richie, he started looking through them. Just then, he felt the faint touch of a pre-Immortal. Looking around, he couldn't see anyone near enough to be the person he sensed. Feeling something strike his shoe, he looked down in time to see a small hand disappear under the table. Crouching down, he lifted the tablecloth and discovered a young boy playing under the table with a toy truck. He couldn't have been more than four or five.

"Hello," he said with a slight grin. "And who are you?" he asked in his flawless French.

The boy stuck a thumb in his mouth and backed away.

From another part of the market, Duncan heard a woman frantically calling the name Henri. "Is that your name? Henri?"

The boy nodded and Duncan gently coaxed him from under the table. "Come, your Maman is looking for you." Hand in hand, he led the small child to his mother. He listened to her grateful thanks before wishing her a good day and heading for home.

Once there, he found Richie in the drawing room and, together, they joined the other two in the library. He firmly shut the door behind them, not wanting Mrs. Bricker to accidentally overhear any of their conversation.

"You may not believe this," Duncan started. "But I found a pre-Immortal today - and he couldn't have been any older than four or five!"

Richie looked confused. "I thought you said there weren't going to be any more new Immortals? That this is the time of the Gathering?"

"That's what I thought," Duncan confirmed. "Joe, Methos, have you heard of any other new pre-Immortals?"

Joe and Methos exchanged a look. Methos finally nodded. "We might as well tell them," the oldest Immortal said.

"The Watchers have no way of knowing who will be Immortal but, like you, we all assumed that new Immortals weren't being born or created or whatever since the late 70's," Joe said. "We kept track of any infants who were abandoned on the assumption they might be Immortal someday. That number has dropped drastically over the past fifty years we've been tracking it. Until recently. Starting in 1992, we have over three hundred cases of foundling children around the world. Who knows how many more we haven't found out about. Like this one - I don't have any record of one from this area. Did you get a name?"

"Henri Gaston. Are you trying to tell me there are over three hundred new pre-Immortals out there?" Duncan asked, disbelief coloring his tone. "All under the age of five?"

"We don't know for sure," Methos said. "But I've personally checked out at least twenty-five cases over the last year, and yes, many of them were pre-Immortals. Joe and I have been trying to prove a theory he came up with about why they've started showing up again."

"And that theory is?" Duncan asked, his mind still stunned at the thought of all those children who could become Immortal one day.

"First off, over the past five years the number of Quickenings taken has dropped drastically. Show them the chart," Joe told Methos.

A piece of paper was handed to Duncan, who looked at it before passing it on to Richie. It showed a steep rise until 1993 where the number of Quickenings started declining and, by 1994, the number had plunged dramatically and continued a downward decline after that.

"Isn't the decline caused by the reduced number of Immortals?" Duncan asked as he took the sheet back from Richie.

"No, the number is a percentage based on the number of known Immortals. The increase in Quickenings is why we were certain the Gathering was here. Now, we're not so certain," Joe explained. "And, if my theory is correct, it's because of all the new pre-Immortals who have been born in the last few years. Whatever drives Immortals to hunt each other down has eased off, and I think it's because that force recognizes the need to wait until these new players are old enough to participate."

"So, what you're saying is that Immortals are driven to fight by some force?" Richie asked with a frown. "I'm not sure I like that."

Joe shrugged. "According to the legend, there will come a time when all Immortals will feel compelled to journey to somewhere and do battle until only one remains. That's going to be a little hard for a child."

Duncan thought about it for a moment. "That's what Connor taught me - and what he learned from Ramirez. I guess your theory makes sense. In which case, in about twenty years, the urge to fight should grow stronger again."

"Cool!" Richie exclaimed with a grin. "Maybe I'll live to see my 30th birthday after all. Although you have to pity all those kids who'll have to start learning to fight then. Does this happen often, Joe? I mean a new influx of pre-Immortal kids?"

"Not in the past century or so - at least, not to our knowledge. Definitely not in these kinds of numbers," Joe said.

"What do you have to say about this, Methos?" Duncan asked.

"I think he makes a very good point. It's his next theory that bothers me more, and that's the one we're really trying to prove."

"And what theory is that?" Duncan asked, turning to the mortal.

"I think I know where all these kids came from," Joe said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face.

Duncan felt his mouth drop open. Looking over at Richie, he saw total shock reflected on his face. "You *know* where we come from?"

"Well, not exactly. I don't know the logistics of how you are created, but my theory would explain why there's all these little pre-Immortal munchkins running around."

A knock at the door caused them all to jump and they grinned at each other sheepishly when Mrs. Bricker called out that lunch was ready.

"I guess we'll have to continue this after lunch," Duncan said.

"But... but... you can't leave us hanging like this," Richie complained.

"Cheer up, Richie," Methos said. "It will only take about an hour or so for lunch - after all, this is France and you can't rush through a meal. Then you can have a nice nap while we finish discussing this."

"No way!" Richie exclaimed. "If you think I'm going to meekly go to my bedroom and miss out on all this... well, you've got another think coming! I may be the youngest one here, but this affects me, too."

"Relax, Richie," Joe said. "I won't leave you out."

"Thanks, Joe," Richie said, sending a glare in Methos' direction.

* HL * HL *

Methos seemed determined to drive Richie crazy during lunch, taking his time with every bite. The young Immortal tried to hide his impatience, not wanting to give the older Immortal the satisfaction. It didn't help that his own lunch took very little time because he was still eating small portions. Richie finally blew up when Methos asked for a second slice of dessert - chocolate cream pie.

"When you're through stuffing your face, you can find me in the library," he said as he jumped to his feet. He stalked out of the room, muttering to himself. When he reached the library, he fell into one of the deep, leather chairs and stared gloomily out the French doors.

A light mist was falling outside and Richie sighed. It seemed to do that a lot here. He longed to be able to sit outside, basking in sunshine. He knew if he said something to Mac, they'd be on their way to the French Riviera. But he couldn't do that - the Scot had already forked out too much money for this place. Sunbathing was just something he had dreamed of many times during his imprisonment - especially when it had been so cold and damp. He gave a slight shiver.

"Cold?" Methos asked from behind him.

"A little," Richie replied, surprised to hear the oldest Immortal's voice. When he had sensed another Immortal approaching, he'd assumed it was Mac - come to take him to task for his rudeness.

"Let me start a fire." Methos busied himself for several minutes and soon a cheery blaze filled the fireplace. "Why don't you move over here," he said, pointing to a chair. "It's closer to the fireplace and you'll be warmer."

Richie complied, recognizing a peace offering when he saw one. "I'm sorry. That was pretty childish of me to react that way."

"No, Richie, I'm the one who was being childish. I knew you wanted to hear the rest of Joe's theories, so I deliberately took my time."

The young man felt a flush creep over his cheeks. "Actually, what upset me the most was you having two slices of my favorite pie when I could only eat a few bites. It just didn't seem fair. Like I said - childish."

"Not at all. I'd probably feel the same way if I were in your shoes."

"Thanks, Methos." Richie looked around. "Where did Mac and Joe disappear to?" he asked.

"They'll be here in a few minutes. They're waiting for the coffee to get done so they can bring it with them. Are you warm enough now, or would you like me to get you a sweater or something from your room?"

"I'm fine," Richie said with a smile. He had a sneaking suspicion that Methos had asked the other two to give him a few minutes alone with Richie - not that the old man would ever admit it to him. After all, it shouldn't take both of them to carry the coffee in here - especially since Mrs. Bricker had a little cart that they could use.

A few minutes later, Duncan wheeled in the little cart, followed by Joe. Methos went over to fix his cup, while the Scot brought one to Richie.

The young man took the mug before realizing it didn't contain coffee - it was filled with hot chocolate. For a moment, he was tempted to insist he could drink coffee just like the grown-ups. Sanity ruled, however, and he knew this was a better choice - more calories and less caffeine. "Thanks, Mac," he said a little ruefully.

The look of relief that crossed the Highlander's face made it clear that he had expected a battle over the drink choice.

"But if I fall asleep in the middle of Joe's theories, you have to promise to wake me up so I don't miss anything," Richie added.

"Sure, Richie," Duncan promised as he fetched his own cup of coffee. "Okay, Joe, the floor is yours."

"All right. I've always thought the Hunters had a major flaw in their master scheme. Here again, according to your legends, the last remaining Immortal would have enough power to rule the universe. However, unless they killed the last two at the same time, they'd never be able to kill the last one."

"Makes sense," Richie said. "But that may have been their plan."

"True. But the other part of the legend says that the last remaining Immortal will have all the power and knowledge of all Immortals who have gone before. Right?"

Richie nodded, as did Duncan.

"That tells me one of two things. Either the last Immortal will be missing some power and knowledge because the Hunters - as well as others - have taken Immortals' heads and their Quickenings have been lost. Or," Joe paused dramatically, "the lost Quickenings have to come back into the Game somehow."

"By creating new pre-Immortals!" Richie finished, proud of himself for seeing where Joe was headed with his tale.

"That's my theory anyway," Joe claimed. "The reason for all the new pre-Immortals is because of all the heads the Hunters have taken - Darius, and Damian Thackerey, both killed by Horton. James Vincent, killed by Pallin Wolf - who almost got you, Mac. And there are others. Between Horton and Wolf, close to twenty different Immortals lost their heads that we know of. There could be more since they were falsifying reports of Quickenings received."

"But why were there so many Immortals born before now?" Duncan asked. "And what changed to stop that?"

"Think about it, MacLeod. When you were young, beheadings were fairly common - either as punishment for a crime or as a sign of victory. How often do people die by having their heads chopped off nowadays?"

"And Immortals have died and lost their Quickenings other ways, too," Methos chipped in. "The incinerators of the Nazi death camps for one. Bombs - not only the big ones like Hiroshima, but little ones, too. One Immortal died in Vietnam because he stepped on a land mine."

"But... why would that kill him permanently?" Richie asked.

"You're too young to remember the damage those things could cause. If there's nothing left but little bits of an Immortal, they won't regenerate. Same goes for animal attacks, landslides, volcanoes, sharks - anything that separates the head from the shoulders."

Richie swallowed hard at the image. "I guess I didn't think about that."

"It's my belief that there are a certain number of Quickenings. Until one Immortal holds them all, the Game isn't over," Joe said. "It's ironic, actually, Horton and Wolf actually caused the Game to be extended by their actions."

"Okay, Joe, I think your theory has some merit to it," Duncan said with a frown. "But why are there over three hundred new pre-Immortals? The Hunters didn't kill that many."

"How many Quickenings did Darius hold? Thackerey? Not only did Darius' Quickening re-enter the Game, so did the Quickening of each of the Immortals he killed and each Immortal they had killed and so forth. It could be exponential. We may have only found the tip of the iceberg in the ones we've identified. There could be thousands out there."

"Whoa!" Richie exclaimed. "That's pretty wild, Joe. Wouldn't someone notice that many foundling children?"

"We're beginning to think it will take years before all the children are born - if that's what happens to you guys. And if the children are spread all over the world, they would become less noticeable. That's why we're having so much trouble proving this. We need to establish a pattern to show these kids came from one of the Immortals the Hunters killed. And in the case of Thackerey and Darius, they held so many Quickenings between the two of them..." The Watcher shook his head.

"Joe, this is an interesting theory you have," Duncan said. "But why the great urgency to prove it? It doesn't prove whether we are born or made or what."

"Yes, but if I can get the other Watchers to buy into this, we could eliminate Hunters totally," Joe said with an earnest look on his face. "What advantage would there be in hunting down Immortals if all that happens is another batch of pre-Immortals pops up?"

"Well, that's a worthy cause, if I *ever* heard of one," Richie declared. "Can I help you with your research? There's not much else I can do right now, anyway."

"Sure, Richie," Joe agreed. "We'd be glad to have your help."

"I think you're all crazy," Duncan said, "but sign me up, too."

"Hey, Joe," Richie said with a frown. "Wouldn't it be easier to prove where a few came from instead of so many? I mean, take me for instance. There should have been some Immortal who died around 1974 that would explain me - wouldn't there?"

"Out of the mouths of babes," Methos muttered. "He's right, Joe. We've been attacking this problem the wrong way. There were very few Immortals who were born in the 70's that we know of - at least based on the number of foundling children. They may all come from one Immortal death." He jumped to his feet and went to the nearby computer.

Moments later, Joe had joined him while Duncan and Richie shared bemused glances. "I guess they liked my idea," Richie said.

"Shall we leave them to it? Feel up to a game of Scrabble?"

"Sure, Mac." Together they headed for the game room.

* HL * HL * HL

One Month Later

"Mac! Hey, Mac, come here! Quick!"

Duncan dropped his shirt on the bed and hurried through the adjoining bath into Richie's room. What could be wrong now? Over the past month, things had been looking up. Richie had spent a lot of that time either in the company of Mrs. Bricker - who'd taken the young man under her wing - or with Joe and Methos helping them with their research. Not that the research had netted any definitive results so far.

In fact, the only time he seemed to spend with Richie had been during their twice-daily walks. Sometimes, the Scot had to fight down irrational jealousy when he'd seen the young man in a deep conversation with Methos. In many ways, Duncan had begun to feel like the odd man out and wondered why he was even needed here.

The young Immortal's stamina had improved drastically, thanks to an easy regimen of walking - the only exercise Duncan would let him do. Today, they had planned to go to the market together - it was the first public outing for Richie since they'd arrived. Joe's birthday was coming up and the young man had been eagerly looking forward to helping buy him a gift, so the Highlander hoped nothing would thwart their plans.

"What's wrong, Richie?" Duncan asked as he reached the other room.

"I can't get my pants fastened," Richie said.

Duncan gave an exasperated sigh. "Is that all? What's wrong with them?"

"You don't understand, Mac. They won't fasten because they're too small!" Richie beamed at his friend. "I'm putting on weight! I didn't realize it until now because I've been wearing sweat pants all the time. These jeans were too big for me when we first got here."

"That's great, Richie." Duncan smiled back at the happy young man. "I told you it would happen. I guess we'll have to do some extra shopping today and get you some more clothes." He returned to his room to finish dressing before joining the others downstairs.

Richie had beat him down, and was informing Methos, Joe and Mrs. Bricker of the news. "It's all because of your cooking," Richie said as he grabbed the woman and did a little dance around her.

"I guess this means you're too big for your britches," Methos commented in a snide voice.

"I guess so," Richie replied, undaunted by the older Immortal's tone. "I think we need to celebrate. Mrs. B, can you make us something special for dinner? With chocolate cream pie for dessert? Please?" He turned his puppy-dog eyes on the woman.

Duncan almost chuckled as the woman gave in and agreed. Richie had her wrapped around his little finger. In fact, he was the only one who could go into her kitchen without being escorted right back out. Although lately, Joe seemed to be spending more time in the kitchen, too. He'd have to remember to grill the Watcher as to his intentions. It wasn't very often they found something to tease the mortal about.

"Are you ready to go, Richie?" Duncan asked.

"Sure, Mac. Can I drive?" Richie turned the puppy-dog eyes on the Scot.

"No, you can't drive," Duncan replied, as he reached out and lightly clouted Richie on the side of the head. "Let's go."

* HL * HL * HL

Richie watched the ever-changing views as they drove to the nearest town that had the stores they wanted to visit. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this. "Hey, Mac, can we go for drives more often? We don't have to go anywhere - just look at scenery."

"Sure, Richie. I think that's a great idea. Now that it's getting warmer, maybe we can even have some picnics or something."

Richie nodded his agreement and sat back to enjoy the ride. When they reached town, he felt himself start to tense up. There were so many cars and people. The noise level seemed almost unbearable at first, but he soon became more used to it. With a chuckle, he realized he had become accustomed to the quiet serenity where they were staying. When Duncan threw him a questioning look, he explained.

"I guess you're turning into a country boy, Richie." Duncan chuckled. "Who would have guessed the same boy that declared he was strictly a city boy would turn out that way?"

"Pretty extreme, huh?" Richie spotted the store they were headed for. "Hey, Mac, there's a parking space right in front. Must be my lucky day. I thought that only happened on TV."

Duncan pulled into the empty spot and soon they were in the clothing department, having decided to get Richie some new clothes first so he could wear jeans the rest of the trip instead of the sweat pants he had been forced to put on when nothing else fit.

"We'll just buy a couple pairs of jeans and maybe one nice pair of slacks," Duncan said. "No sense in getting carried away when you're going to outgrow them soon."

Richie was a little daunted when he found he needed to buy clothes in a boy's size, but he bounced back and insisted on going to the dressing room by himself. "Really, Mac, I've been buying clothes for years," he said. "I can handle this."

"All right, but make sure they fit loosely. You want them to last you for a few weeks."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad. And I won't talk to strangers either - unless they're cute," he added with a grin.

This time Duncan rolled his eyes. "Go. I'll wait out here."

Richie quickly tried on the different sizes of pants he had brought in with him. When he was finally satisfied, he left the pair on and went out to join Duncan. "These should do," he said, hanging the discards back on the rack, before pulling out another pair of jeans the same size as the ones he had on.

"Why don't you also buy two pair the next size up," Duncan suggested. "That way we won't have to come back into town so soon." He handed a credit card over. "You can use this to pay for them. I'm going to try these on." He held up a pair of slacks.

"Sure, Mac." Richie took the jeans and the slacks over to the counter where a pretty sales clerk was working. He pulled out his best grin to impress her. "Hi. Oops. Bonjour," he said, switching to French. "I'd like to buy these, including the pair I have on. Do you have some..." he struggled for a moment to remember the correct word, "scissors, so I can cut the tags off?"

The young woman, whose nametag said Nicole, looked up at him, but didn't return his smile. She reached for a pair of scissors and set them on the counter, several inches away from Richie. Gingerly, she reached for the clothes, holding them away from her as if they smelled bad.

Richie's smile faltered a little at her lack of friendliness. He busied himself cutting off the tags and placed them on the countertop when he was through.

Nicole left the scissors on the counter, but picked up the tags by the corner to run them through the scanner. She rattled off the total price, the first words she'd said to him. Handing her the credit card, Richie watched as she gripped that in two fingers as well. After signing the charge slip, he took the bag from the counter where she had placed it.

"Have a nice day," he said sarcastically, before turning to leave.

A few steps away, he stopped and looked back. She had pulled a cloth out from under the counter and used it to pick up the scissors. She sprayed some kind of liquid on them before wiping them off with the same cloth. She then cleaned off the pen and the counter top.

Richie finally realized she must have been afraid he was contagious. He didn't think he looked *that* bad. He let his eyes roam around the store while he waited for Duncan to emerge from the dressing room. Whenever he met someone's eyes, they quickly looked away. Two children stood by their mother's side and stared at him. One of them tugged on their mother's sleeve and the young man heard the words clearly.

"Maman, why is he so thin?"

For the first time in a long time, Richie wished he had never learned French. His mood darkened when Duncan was given smiles and lots of attention from the sales clerk who had snubbed him.

As their shopping trip progressed, Richie paid close attention to other people. He got outright stares from some people - mostly children - and quick sidelong glances from others. Most of the sales clerks ignored him and spoke directly to MacLeod. The few that did talk to him, treated him like an idiot. Finally, fed up with it all, Richie turned to Duncan.

"Are we done yet?" He hated the petulant way it had come out, but that was how he felt. "We've got clothes for you and me, and Joe's birthday present. What more do we need?"

Duncan looked at him closely for a moment. "Sure, Richie. I think we can head home now, unless you want to get something to eat first?"

The thought of sitting in a restaurant amidst a lot of people was more than Richie could stomach. "No, I'm really tired. I just want to go home and take a nap."

* HL * HL * HL

On the way home, Richie remained silent, tilting the seat back slightly and keeping his eyes closed. Duncan hoped it was just exhaustion that had sent the young man into this mood but, somehow, he knew there was more to it. He just didn't have a clue what it was.

Upon reaching the house, Richie took his purchases and headed for his room without even returning the greetings from Joe and Methos.

"What's bothering him?" Joe asked.

Duncan shrugged. "I don't know. One minute he's all smiles and chatter, the next he's Mr. Silent."

"Did you eat in town?" When Duncan shook his head, Joe went to find Mrs. Bricker to have her fix them something to eat.

Duncan went to his room and dropped off the rest of the packages. He peeked into Richie's room and saw the young Immortal lying on the bed, one arm flung over his eyes. Deciding not to bother him, he changed into some sweat clothes before heading for the kitchen.

"Mrs. Bricker, I think Richie's sleeping right now. Could you keep something for when he wakes up?"

She agreed instantly, taking one of the sandwiches and wrapping it up. "I'll check on him in a while," she assured him.

Thanking her, he picked up several sandwiches and a glass of milk before heading for the gym. A good kata would reduce some of his stress, he decided, as he munched on the food.

* HL * HL * HL

Richie heard the bathroom door open softly. Figuring it was Duncan checking up on him, he kept still on the bed. When he finally heard the door close, he let out a sigh. He had really looked forward to today, to getting out of the house and around people again. What a joke!

He continued to lie on the bed for a while, until the call of nature caused him to stir. Going into the bathroom, he emptied his bladder. Turning around, he saw his reflection in the huge mirror running across the wall above the sinks. He moved closer, trying to see himself as others saw him. Tried to see why people had stared today.

Peeling off his shirt, he stared intently into the mirror and felt disgust fill him. All he saw was a freak - someone who should have been in a circus sideshow - right next to the bearded lady. He saw someone - or something - that didn't deserve to live.

Richie's hand closed around a brass statue of a rocking horse sitting on the sinktop and, with a snarl, he threw it at the mirror. Over and over, he threw the statue, yelling out "NO!" each time. The mirror cracked and then shattered into pieces.

Spotting one large piece of the mirror with a long jagged edge on it gave him another idea, and he reached for it with both hands.

* HL * HL *

Methos had finished the chapter he was reading and headed for the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea. As he passed the stairs, he thought he heard a crash. Deciding to investigate, he climbed to the second level. As he drew closer to Richie's room, he heard the yells and the sound of glass breaking and started to run. He saw Mrs. Bricker coming up the back stairs and, thinking fast, told her to find MacLeod because Richie was having a seizure. She turned immediately and headed back down the other set of stairs.

Methos continued on to Richie's room and flung open the door. There was no sign of the young man in the bedroom, so he headed for the open bathroom door. The sight that greeted his eyes caused him to pause for a moment on the threshold.

Richie sat on the floor, covered with blood, a large piece of glass in his hands. The jagged edge of the glass was embedded in the young Immortal's neck and he kept trying to saw it back and forth.

"Richie!" Methos yelled. "What are you doing? Give me the glass."

"No," Richie muttered. "I want to die. I want my Quickening to create a new life - lots of new lives - maybe they'll do better than I did."

Cursing under his breath, Methos reached out to grab the glass. Richie struggled to maintain his grip.

"Noooo!" Richie moaned.

The older Immortal couldn't get the glass away from the younger one. Richie had a death grip on his end and Methos worried that the glass might be sharp enough to cut off the young Immortal's fingers. With one hand, he held the shard, keeping it from Richie's neck. With the other, he tried to pry the young man's fingers loose. He struggled to maintain his grip as his hands grew slippery from the blood - both his and Richie's. Where the hell was MacLeod?

The sound of running footsteps came from the hallway and, a moment later, MacLeod burst into the room. Taking in the situation, he moved to Richie's side and wrapped his arms around him.

"Give Methos the glass," Duncan said gently.

Richie struggled in his arms. "Noooo! I want to die! Please, take my head! Pleeeease!"

Duncan and Methos exchanged looks over the young Immortal's head.

"We're not going to do that, Richie." Duncan could feel the young man's struggles grow weaker. "We care about you too much."

"You can't," Richie moaned. "I'm a freak. They all stared at me today."

Duncan's arms tightened for a moment. "You're not a freak!"

Without warning, Richie loosened his grip on the glass and Methos fell back on his rear still clutching it. The young Immortal stopped struggling, going totally still. For a moment, Duncan wondered if he had passed out from blood loss again. Suddenly, Richie burst into deep, heart-wrenching sobs, and all the Scot could do was wrap his arms more securely around his friend and gently rock him.

"Shhh, you're going to be all right, Richie," Duncan murmured over and over again.

Methos rose to his feet and deposited the blood-stained glass on the countertop. "Do you want my help?" he asked MacLeod.

Duncan shook his head. "I'll yell if I need something," he replied quietly. "He might calm down faster if I'm the only one here."

"All right. I'll go do some damage control - hopefully Joe kept Mrs. Bricker from calling a doctor."

Duncan nodded in agreement, never stopping the gentle rocking or the soft reassurances. After Methos left, he dropped his head down onto Richie's. "Why, Richie? Why did you do it? You were doing so well."

Recalling his earlier thoughts that day, Duncan wondered if this was retribution because he had dared to think he wasn't necessary to Richie's recovery anymore. How much more wrong could he have been?

The sobs lessened slowly, but Duncan could feel Richie trembling in his arms. At least his Immortal healing powers seemed to be working better this time, as little blue flashes of lightning sparkled over the young Immortal's hands and body - not like when he'd cut his arm on the barge.

"Mac?" Richie's voice quavered.

"Right here, Richie."

"I... I'm sorry."

"So am I, Richie. So am I. I shouldn't have taken you into town yet. You weren't ready. Things will be different once you put some more weight on. You'll see."

Richie shook his head. "I can't do this anymore. I tried to stay cheerful. I tried. I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to think I was a whiney kid."

Duncan's rocking motion stopped as the words sank in. "Oh, Richie. I know that. You don't have to pretend around me. You survived a horrific ordeal and still managed to stay sane. I'm not sure I could have handled that little closet prison as well as you did."

"I... I can't stop shaking."

"It's all right, Richie. Your muscles are all tensed up. How about a nice hot bath, okay?"

After a moment, Richie nodded.

"Can you stand?" Duncan watched as the young Immortal struggled to his feet, then caught him as his knees buckled and Richie passed out. He quickly stripped the young man and carried him over to the tub, gently lowering him into it.

Reaching for the faucets, Duncan carefully adjusted the mix before letting the tub start to fill. He turned the water off after an inch of water covered the bottom. Grabbing a nearby washcloth, he slowly started rinsing off Richie's chest and arms. The only wound still not healed was the neck wound. It had closed up, but he could still see the jagged mark. It was possible that the young Immortal would be scarred permanently from this, though he hoped not.

Satisfied that the worst was gone, he emptied the tub and turned the water back on. He used another washcloth to rinse Richie off again before filling the tub to capacity. Halfway through the process, Richie regained consciousness and struggled briefly until he realized where he was. Duncan could still see the tremors running under the young man's skin. "Richie, try to relax. Take a deep breath and let it out - nice and easy."

Slowly, the muscle twitching stopped. Richie had his head back against the edge of the tub. His eyes were still open, but it looked like he was struggling to stay awake. Duncan emptied the tub and dried Richie off before picking him up and carrying him to his bed.

"So tired, Mac," Richie muttered as Duncan tucked him in.

"I know. Go to sleep, Richie. I'll be here." He reached out and clasped one of the young Immortal's hands in his. "I won't leave you."

Richie's grip tightened for a moment before he relaxed into sleep.

Duncan felt the presence of another Immortal and turned towards the bedroom door. A moment later, Methos came through it carrying a glass of scotch, which he handed to the Highlander.

"Here, I thought you could use this."

"Thanks, Methos." Duncan took the glass gratefully, and drained it in two gulps. "Is everything under control downstairs?"

"Yes, Mrs. Bricker thinks Richie had a seizure, but I told her it was nothing unusual - that he's had them before. You'd better change your clothes before she sees you, though."

Duncan looked down at his blood-stained garments and grimaced. "I see what you mean." He looked over at the still-sleeping Richie before deciding it would be safe enough to go change quickly.

"Go on," Methos urged. "I'll stay with him while you change."

Duncan headed for his room, pausing for a moment to inspect the carnage in the bathroom. Blood was splattered everywhere and the floor was littered with the shattered fragments of the mirror. Shaking his head, he continued on, stripping off his top as he went. He returned to Richie's room a few minutes later. Methos was standing at the window, staring out at the garden.

The Scot went over and stood looking down at the sleeping Richie. "We'll have to clean up the bathroom before Mrs. Bricker sees it, too. I should have insisted we didn't need a housekeeper," Duncan said with a frown. "I never thought Richie would..." He turned back to face the oldest Immortal. "Why, Methos? Why now?"

Methos shrugged. "I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. I think he's been in denial and it finally caught up to him."

"Denial! How can he be in denial when every time he looks in a mirror he can see how thin he is?"

"MacLeod, it's one thing to know it, it's another to accept it. Haven't you ever looked in the mirror and been surprised at the young face peering back at you? I know I have. I know what I look like, but every so often I expect to see an old man's face staring back at me."

Duncan nodded slowly. "After Tessa died, I felt so... old. I kept expecting my reflection to change, but it never did."

"Richie has looked into the mirror and finally seen what he really looks like. And it made him angry and maybe frightened. We're going to have to watch him, MacLeod. He's strong enough now to take off on his own."

Duncan inhaled sharply as he realized what the other Immortal was saying. "You think he'll want to go find someone to take his head?"

Methos shrugged again. "It's possible. I think it's time to start pushing him harder. Get him back into exercising. Have you picked out a new sword for him?"

"Yes, a katana this time. I was wrong to give him the rapier. I thought it would be easier for him to use because it was lighter, but he does better with a two-fisted grip."

"Then give it to him. Remind him of what he is - an Immortal. With the Game easing off, he's got a chance of living a lot longer than I would have said a few years ago. But he's got to want to live."

"I'll talk with him, Methos."

"You do that, MacLeod. I'll go pick up the bathroom. If you need anything, just yell."

* HL * HL * HL

Richie slept throughout the remainder of the day. Duncan refused to leave his room, alternating between sitting by his bedside, and pacing around the room. Mrs. Bricker brought dinner on a tray.

"Is he going to be all right?" she asked, as she carefully straightened the covers on Richie's bed.

"Yes. He's just exhausted, between the shopping trip and the... seizure. I'm sorry about the mirror in the bathroom. Contact someone to replace it and have them send me the bill."

"Very well. I'm just glad he didn't cut himself when it broke," Mrs. Bricker said. "I'll leave some soup on the stove for when he wakes up."

"Thanks, Mrs. Bricker," Duncan said.

Two hours later, Richie finally stirred. By that time, Duncan had figured out what he was going to say to his young friend. It wasn't going to be easy - on either of them.

He helped Richie to a sitting position, and poured a glass of orange juice from the pitcher that Methos had brought up earlier. "Here, drink this. You need to replace fluids from the blood loss."

Waiting for the young Immortal to finish his drink, Duncan studied him carefully. Richie refused to meet his eyes, and the Scot could see a slow flush creep over the young man's cheeks. Once the glass had been set aside, the Highlander launched his battle, working hard to keep all emotion from his face.

"Tell me something, Richie. Twice now, you've asked me to take your head. Do you really want to die?"

Richie looked at him, startled, before slowly nodding his head.

"Very well. We'll go outside to that little grove of trees out back once everyone is sleeping. That's as good a place as any to die."

"Maybe it would be better if you have Methos do it," Richie said, looking away again.

"I won't ask him to do my dirty work for me. If you want to die, I'll take your head myself." And it would be the hardest thing he would ever have to do.

"I'm sorry, Mac," Richie mumbled.

"For what? Making me believe my friend Richie was back? The way I figure it, you must be an impostor, too. The Richie I knew wasn't a quitter."

Richie's face grew redder. "I'm *not* a quitter!"

"Then what do you call this? Asking someone to take your head *is* quitting! You're not my friend - you can't be! I must have killed the real Richie a year ago at that racetrack."

"NO!" Richie shouted. "I'm Richie! He was an impostor!"

"Then prove it!" Duncan strode over to the bed and loomed over the younger man. "Show me that tough guy attitude that kept you mouthing off to me at the police station. Show me the kid who was so persistent, he ended up on Soldier's bridge watching an Immortal battle. Show me the young Immortal, still in training, who took on Annie and won. Show me that you're not a quitter! My friend Richie wasn't."

"I'm *not* a quitter! And I *am* your friend!" Richie shouted. "I'll show you! You just wait and see!"

"You won't be able to show me anything once I take your head." Duncan backed up a ways and turned around.

"You're not going to take my head! I won't let you! I'll prove to you I'm no quitter! I'll prove that I'm your friend!"

Duncan spun back around at looked at the angry young face. "You already have, Richie. You already have." He gave a slight smile.

It took a few moments before Richie caught on. If possible, his face became even angrier. "You bastard! You set me up! You never intended to take my head!"

"Don't you see, Richie, I had to do it. I had to make you realize what you were doing. And it worked."

"Get the hell out! I'm so mad... I'm so mad..."

Duncan complied, pausing at the door leading into the bathroom. "You could take my head?" he asked with a sardonic grin.

"Yes! Damn you! I'm so mad I could take your head!"

"In that case, I suggest we get started on your training first thing in the morning. No more Mr. Nice Guy. See you then." Duncan entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Damn you, Duncan MacLeod," came through clearly followed by the sound of something thudding against the door. Probably Richie's pillow.

Duncan grinned to himself before heading for his own bed.

* HL * HL * HL

The next morning, Richie made it quite clear that he was still angry with the Highlander, barely speaking to him when they met in the bathroom. Duncan ignored his dark mood and told him to be in the gym in thirty minutes, then he went downstairs to get his own breakfast.

Richie was ten minutes late, and Duncan hoped that wasn't a sign of the battles ahead. But the young Immortal slipped into the routine easily with only minimal complaining. They started off with stretching exercises and then proceeded to a kata. Richie was sweating profusely by the time it was done, and the Scot gave him a brief break.

While Richie was resting, Duncan went to a long box that he had brought down earlier. Opening it, he pulled out a black braid katana - very similar to the one Richie had used against Annie Devlin. He brought it over and presented it formally to his friend.

Richie stood up and, with shaking hands, accepted the sword. He moved toward the center of the room and began a kata with it. Duncan watched carefully to make sure the balance and length were correct for the young Immortal. Satisfied with his choice, the Scot moved over to the weight bench and started to pump iron, keeping one eye on Richie's progress.

The young Immortal tired quickly and almost collapsed on a nearby bench. He turned shining eyes to the Highlander. "Thanks, Mac."

"You're welcome, Richie. Am I forgiven yet?"

"It was a dirty trick and you know it!" Richie glared at his friend.

"I was desperate - afraid you'd run off and look for the nearest headhunter. You... you seemed so broken - I figured anger would be the best way of reaching you."

"And if you hadn't reached me... would you have taken my head?" Richie looked down at the sword in his hands.

"I don't know, Richie. I hoped I would be able to do it, but if it had come down to that final stroke - I'm not so sure. I only knew it had to be your decision to live or die."

"Do you have any idea how close it came to going the other way?" Richie's voice shook a little.

Duncan nodded. "I know. It was one of the biggest gambles I've ever taken." He paused for a moment. "You never answered me before. Am I forgiven?" he asked.

Richie thought about it for a while, keeping Duncan in suspense. "Yeah, I forgive you." He looked directly at the Scot. "But, I'm still mad!"

Duncan laughed. "I can live with that. Now, back to work."

Richie grumbled, but headed for the weight bench.

* HL * HL *

Richie was beginning to hate the word 'three'. Duncan seemed to say it a lot. Whenever he thought he'd reached his limit, the Scot would chime in with his favorite saying. "Do three more!" Three more sit-ups. Three more pull-ups. Three more laps in the pool. Three more bites of food. He wasn't sure how he did it, but somehow he always managed.

The day after his training had started, Richie found a scale in his bathroom. Attached to the wall was a large piece of paper. The next thing he knew, Duncan was using a tape measure to record everything he could think of. Chest, waist, hips, thighs, calves, biceps, and forearms were all duly measured and plotted on the chart.

"We'll do this every week," Duncan said. "That way, you'll see how well you're progressing."

Duncan took it a step further by dragging Methos upstairs and repeating the process on him. "This will give you some idea of what you're aiming for. He's closer in size to you than you were to me."

Richie hated to admit it, but it sounded like a good idea. However, the difference between the two sets of numbers seemed daunting.

Duncan then created another chart of his workout regimen. This one had to be filled out each time he exercised. What he did, how long he did it, number of repetitions. When Richie complained he couldn't keep track of all of that and exercise at the same time, Joe volunteered to be the official scribe.

Duncan's next brainstorm was to chart everything that went into Richie's mouth. He enlisted Mrs. Bricker to measure the food she served him and what was left over when he finished eating.

Having gone completely chart crazy, Duncan then put up one in Richie's bedroom to keep track of how much he slept. Each nap had to be written in as well as the hours he slept each night. He also had to rate how well he slept.

Richie felt this was the final straw. "Next thing you know, Mac, you're going to be measuring how often and how much I pee!"

"Well, we can do that, too, Richie," Duncan replied with a grin. "Let me get another piece of paper."

"NO! Enough already. No more charts!"

Methos poked his head into the room. "I suppose that means you don't want to see these charts, then, do you?" He waved a rolled up tube of paper. "Too bad," he said as he turned to leave.

Richie and Duncan exchanged confused glances before following the other Immortal to the library. Joe and Methos were waiting for them.

"Changed your mind, I see," Methos said. "Well, it's time to show you what all our research has found out. As you know, we've been tracking an Immortal by the name of David Mason. He died in a car accident - beheaded by the windshield - in the same year that Richie appeared." He unrolled the paper and laid it out on the desk. "This shows all the Quickenings we think he had. He'd only taken three heads himself, and none of them had taken many heads either."

Duncan and Richie moved in closer to examine the chart. It started with one name on the top, three underneath it, and then it expanded down from there. There were over fifty different names. Next to each name, two different cities were named.

"What are those?" Richie asked.

"The one on the right is where the Immortal was from and the other is where he lost his head," Methos explained. "None of them originally came from the Seacouver area."

"But, there's several of them who lost their heads there," Richie pointed out excitedly.

"Yes, four of them. We have records of four abandoned infants found in the Seacouver area - one born each year starting with you, Richie, and ending with Michelle Webster," Methos replied. "The other two were adopted by families who moved out of the area. One died for the first time about six months ago and he lost his head a short time later. The other hasn't died yet, so we're still guessing she's a pre-Immortal. One of us would have to go see her to be sure."

Duncan frowned. "So, what you're saying is that a new pre-Immortal is born at the same location where an Immortal lost his head?"

Joe nodded. "It appears so. Kind of like taking up where it left off. We've also found other Immortals who were born around the same time at some of these other locations."

"Although it does appear that only one can be born at a time in one location," Duncan pointed out. "Which means we could still have a lot more pre-Immortals to be born yet."

"So, this proves your theory, right, Joe?" Richie asked.

"Well, it's a good start. Enough to take to the Watcher council and see if I can convince them."

"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea, Joe," Duncan said. "I think you are definitely on to something here and it's nice to know that Darius' Quickening wasn't totally lost. But, I think this could cause as many problems with Hunters as we have now."

"How do you figure, MacLeod?" Joe asked, frowning heavily.

"Given this information, if I was a Hunter, I'd still want to take heads. Their whole purpose is to keep one of us from holding all Quickenings. So every few years, you run around and chop off some Immortals' heads and it'll never happen. Or, even worse, they'd keep an Immortal prisoner and out of the Game that way."

Richie shivered as he flashed back on his small prison for a moment. "Oh, man. I never thought about that."

"Neither did I," Joe said, dismay filling his face now. "What do I do now? Should I bury all this research? I thought it would do some good."

"I know you did, Joe," Duncan replied. "As for what to do with it, that's up to you. We can't make this decision for you. It might stop the Hunters, or it might do the opposite." With that, the Scot stood and left the room.

Joe turned to the other two. "Richie? Methos?"

Methos just shrugged his shoulders.

Richie thought about it for a while. "I guess I'm going to have to go with Mac on this one and say it's up to you. Neither of us are Watchers, Joe. If you feel this is important to share, then do it." He glanced down at the chart again. "So, if your theory is correct, one of these four people and I have shared the same Quickening?"

"Yes, that's correct," Joe replied. "But, it's just a theory."

"Hmmm. Two men and two women. And the four born were also two men and two women?" Richie asked.

"As far as we know," Joe said. "Assuming the fourth one is pre-Immortal, that's one female and Michelle Webster was the other. That leaves two others, you and the other male Immortal who lost his head."

"So, does the Quickening determine sex?" Richie asked.

Joe and Methos exchanged glances. "Good question," Joe replied. "I guess we have more research to do after all."

"Well, here's another one," Richie said, frowning at the paper. "Does the Quickening determine who's going to be a good or bad Immortal?"

"Anyone can learn to use a sword," Methos replied.

"That's not what I mean. What about a dark Quickening? Joe, you told me you almost took Mac's head that night in the dojo. Would the kid who got that Quickening end up being the same way - totally evil? And would the one who got Mac's Quickening have ended up a... a..."

"A boy scout?" Methos suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah, a boy scout does seem to describe him," Richie agreed.

"Well, you've definitely given me a lot to think about, Richie," Joe said. "Go eat or exercise or do something else before you think up any more." He grinned at the young Immortal to show he was teasing.

"No problem, Joe. Always glad to help." With a smirk and a brief wave, Richie left the room.

* HL * HL * HL

A week passed and then another. Richie dutifully kept updating the charts, but he wasn't happy with his progress. He was exercising more and sleeping less, but his weight wasn't going up. One afternoon, he decided to do something about it, so he headed for the kitchen.

Since it was Mrs. Bricker's day off, Richie was fairly certain he wouldn't be disturbed. He started searching through cupboards and the refrigerator, looking for the most fattening thing he could find. Settling on the carton of ice cream and a stash of chocolate chip cookies, the young Immortal carried them to the table and proceeded to stuff himself.

He ate until his stomach proclaimed it was full, and then he ate some more. Only when it started to hurt did he finally stop. Richie struggled to clean up after himself before returning to his bedroom. He turned on the television and sat down on the sofa, trying to ignore the stomach cramps that seemed to grow worse with time.

A particularly strong cramp made him clamp his hand over his mouth and sent him lurching into the bathroom. He just barely made it to the stool before everything he had eaten came back up. In his misery, he failed to notice the signal that another Immortal was approaching. His first clue was a shocked voice behind him.

"Richie! What's wrong?" Duncan asked, in a slightly panicked voice, as he closed the distance between the two of them.

Richie moaned. Why did it have to be Mac who found him? Why couldn't it have been Joe or Mrs. Bricker or even Methos? No, scratch Methos. The oldest living Immortal would probably harass him about this for months.

His stomach cramped again and Richie forgot the man standing next to him as he tried to turn his stomach inside out. When it was finally over, he slumped back down on the floor, resting his forehead against the rim of the stool.

"All done?" Duncan asked.

Richie raised his head long enough to nod weakly. The next thing he knew, Mac had a hand under his chin, gently washing his face with a damp cloth. He thought about protesting, but it felt so good.

"Here, rinse." A glass was thrust at him and Richie complied, wondering how he was going to explain this one.

Richie handed the glass back and, a moment later, felt two hands hoist him to his feet.

"C'mon, Richie, let's get you back to your room."

The young Immortal tried to walk, but his legs were still shaking so he had to lean heavily on his friend. Soon he was propped up with pillows in his own bed, and Duncan was slipping his shoes off his feet, before covering him with a blanket.

"Want to tell me what triggered that?" Duncan asked.

"Not really," Richie replied, refusing to meet the Scot's eyes. He decided to close his eyes, hoping Mac would take the hint and leave. He kept waiting for some sound to indicate he was being left alone, but none came. Sighing, he opened his eyes to find the Highlander still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. "What?" he asked defiantly. "Can't I get sick without there being a reason for it? Maybe I have the flu."

Duncan didn't reply, just raised one eyebrow in disbelief.

Richie ground his teeth together. Sometimes, Mac could be *so* stubborn. Deciding to just get it over with, the young Immortal told the older one what he had done.

"Did you learn a lesson from this?" Duncan asked with a serious face.

"Yeah, I'm an idiot! Happy?" Richie snapped back.

Duncan laughed. "That sounds about right. Richie, your weight is going up - slowly. That's because you're exercising more. That burns calories, but you're also starting to eat more to compensate for it. It takes..."

"I know, it takes time," Richie interrupted the lecture. "I won't do it again. Trust me."

"Good. Now try to rest for a while." Duncan stood up and headed for his room. He turned back at the last moment. "And don't forget to put this nap down on your chart," he added with a grin.

Richie found enough strength to throw a pillow at the retreating figure.

* HL * HL * HL *

A few days later, Richie poked his head in the library and discovered only Joe present. It was just what he was hoping for. "Hey, Joe. You got some time?"

"Sure, Richie," Joe said as he turned off the computer and sat back in his chair. "What do you need?"

Richie took a chair near the Watcher. "Ummm. I've got some questions and, well, I don't think Mac or Methos would understand. They've been around too long."

"Okay. I'll try to help," Joe replied.

"During the year I was imprisoned, I had lots of time to think - and to make promises about things I'd do if I ever got out of there. I've been working on some of them - like reading more books - but there's one I'm having trouble with." Richie paused for a moment, looking down at his hands. "I vowed I would do something with my life, something that would..." Richie paused again and brushed at his eyes. "Something that would make Tessa proud of me."

"That's a wonderful thought, Richie," Joe said, lightly clasping Richie on the shoulder. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know *what* to do," Richie explained. "In school, people would ask what I wanted to do for a living, but I never knew what to say. How do people decide something like that?"

"That's a tough one, Richie," Joe admitted. "I'd say most people decide on a career based on something they think they would enjoy doing, or they want to be like someone they know."

Richie gave a cynical laugh. "Most of the people I knew growing up, I *don't* want to be like. And the only thing I enjoyed doing was racing motorcycles, but I can't do that again. I'm willing to go to college - I've been thinking about that a lot. I could set up a new identity and probably get student loans easily enough. But, first I have to have some idea of what I want to do."

"Hmmmm. You managed the dojo for MacLeod, didn't you? Maybe you could study accounting or business management."

"Yeah, I thought about that, but I wasn't a very good manager. The place was always losing money."

"I don't think that was entirely to blame on your management skills. I know for a fact that MacLeod wasn't really interested in increasing the customer base - too many people around who might see something they shouldn't." Joe paused and looked down at the desk. "Of course! Richie, the smartest thing you could study would be computers. They're here to stay, you can make a nice living programming, and it's not a high visibility job - in fact you might be able to get a job where you could work from your home. Plus knowing how to use computers may help you create new identities for yourself."

Richie thought about it for a while. Joe's suggestion made a lot of sense. He wasn't totally computer illiterate. He'd had to learn how to use one at the antique store and the dojo. "That's a great idea, Joe," he finally said. "I'll think about it for a while, but it does sound like it has some possibilities." Richie stood up to leave. "By the way, this is between you and me," he added. "I don't want Mac to know anything about this yet."

"All right, Richie. If that's what you want, it's our secret."

"Thanks, Joe."

* HL * HL * HL

One night, a week later, Richie left Duncan and Methos playing chess in the library and headed for his room. Joe and Mrs. Bricker had gone out to a local nightclub, something they had started doing once a week. Richie had picked out a new book from the extensive library in the house and planned on starting it in the comfort of his own room.

It had been a good day. He and Duncan had actually sparred for the first time - although it hadn't lasted long. Richie had been pleased that some of his old moves had come back easily. He knew he wasn't a match for any other Immortal yet, but it had felt great because he knew it was a start. For the first time, he really, truly felt like he was on the road to recovery.

Reaching his room, Richie turned on the lamps on either side of the bed before walking over to the French doors that led out to the second floor balcony. If it had been a nicer night, he might have gone outside and strolled around the gardens. It was nice having access from the balcony, it saved going downstairs and out the back door. Unfortunately, tonight it was raining softly and lightning filled the distant sky even as he looked out.

Going to the bed, he flopped down and picked up the book. It was a little hard to concentrate on the words because his eyes kept drifting shut. Finally, he decided to give in to his exhaustion, and laid the book down. A brief nap wouldn't hurt at all.

A loud noise woke him suddenly and, when his eyes popped open, he was greeted by darkness. There was no comforting glow of a nearby lamp. Sudden, unreasoning panic flooded through him and his mind had only one thought - he had to get out! He fumbled his way to the door and started jerking at it frantically. He had to get out. He could hear the rats - they were coming back. He had to get out! Without warning the door flew open and he stumbled outside.

* HL * HL *

Duncan leaned back and sipped at his scotch while he waited for Methos to decide his next chess move. A loud crack of thunder caused both of them to jump and they exchanged sheepish grins. A second, much louder crash followed a moment later and the room plunged into darkness.

"Hmmm. Looks like a tree took down the power lines," Methos suggested.

"Probably. Which means we could be without lights for a while. Oh, my God! Richie!" The young Immortal hadn't been in a dark room since that one night at Joe's. Who knew what this would do to him? Duncan started out of the room, stopping long enough to say, "See if you can find some flashlights, or maybe some candles, and bring them to Richie's room."

Duncan struggled through the house, bumping into objects he couldn't see. The only illumination came from the brief lightning flashes that still filled the sky. Finally reaching the staircase, he hurried up it, picking up speed when he realized he still hadn't felt the touch of an Immortal. Maybe Richie hadn't gone back to his room. Maybe he was someplace else in the house.

He flung open the door to Richie's bedroom, and a flash of lightning illuminated the scene - the rumpled bedspread, abandoned book, and the French doors swinging wildly from gusts of wind. There was no sign of the young Immortal.

Duncan ran to the balcony, drenched the moment he set foot outside by the deluge of rain pouring down. He struggled to see through the driving rain. "Richie!" he yelled out. "Richie, where are you?"

"MacLeod?" Methos voice came to him from the bedroom and Duncan turned and went back inside. "Where's Richie?"

"I don't know. He must have run off." Duncan noticed Methos had two flashlights. "Give me one of those," he ordered. "You search the house in case he didn't go outside, and I'll start searching the grounds."

"Did he take his sword?" Methos asked.

Duncan swung the flashlight around the room, finally bringing it to bear on the sword case. He opened it and the steel reflected back at him. "No," he said, unsure whether to be relieved or dismayed by the answer. Without a sword, he had no defense against another Immortal, but at least he couldn't hurt a mortal. Who knew what kind of mental state he was in?

Moving to the balcony, Duncan explored it carefully, checking every nook and corner to be sure Richie wasn't huddled up in one of them. He then proceeded down the stairs and started to search the grounds. The rain continued to pour down heavily, limiting visibility. To add to the misery, the howling wind cut through him like a knife and sent cold shivers through him.

He had no idea how long he'd been searching when he felt the touch of another Immortal. "Richie, is that you?" he called out.

"No, it's me," Methos replied. "I take it you've had no luck so far?"

"No. How could he have gotten so far away so fast?" Duncan asked in frustration.

"I'll go check the other direction," Methos said. "Maybe he headed for the road instead of the gardens."

"I hope not. Knowing our luck, the police would manage to pick him up. I don't think I can explain away his still being alive again."

Duncan continued searching. Soon he left the gardens behind and entered the small grove of trees that lay between their house and their neighbors. There was no clear pathway through the grove and the Highlander felt shrubs and tree limbs grab at his clothes. He finally turned back, deciding to see if Methos had any better luck.

He saw the bobbing light before he felt the Immortal, so he knew it was Methos approaching this time. Dread filled him, as he wondered where else to search.

"I found him," Methos called out as he got close enough to be heard over the storm.

"And you left him alone?" Duncan asked in amazement. "Are ye daft, man?"

"He's not going anywhere," Methos replied cryptically. He led the way, at a trot, back to the house and then around to the garage. "There he is," he said, using the flashlight to pick out the person lying face down on the ground, body pinned in place by a large tree limb.

Duncan hurried to Richie's side. He quickly checked for a pulse and found one. The limb must have just knocked him out when it fell. With Methos' help, he moved the limb away, then the Highlander slung the young Immortal's body over his shoulder, and headed back to the house.

Duncan sent Methos to find more flashlights or candles before carrying Richie to their bathroom. He set his flashlight on the counter, aiming at the tub, and laid Richie down on the floor. He grabbed the light again when he noticed the bloody gash on the young Immortal's forehead. It was already starting to heal, but at least it explained the unconciousness. With quick moves, he proceeded to strip Richie. His skin was ice cold so Duncan filled the bathtub, then gently picked up his friend and placed him in it.

Deciding to risk it, Duncan dashed into his bedroom, stripping off his sodden clothes as he went. He grabbed a dry pair of sweats and rushed back to the bathroom where he finished dressing. A quick rub with a towel to take out the excess moisture in his hair, and he moved back to Richie's side.

Duncan got back just as Richie moaned, indicating his return to consciousness. The young Immortal started thrashing around and it was all the Scot could do to hold him down. Water sloshed over the tub edge and Duncan found himself almost as wet as before.

"Richie!" Duncan said urgently. "Take it easy. Calm down."

"Gotta get out," Richie muttered. "Gotta get out." His eyes stared blankly forward and Duncan knew the young Immortal had no clue he was not alone.

"Richie, you got out," Duncan tried to assure him. "You're safe now." The young Immortal continued to struggle and, for a brief moment, his head slipped under the water.

Richie's struggles grew even wilder as his head emerged from the water. "Water keeps coming. Gonna drown. God, I don't want to drown. Please! So tired. Gonna drown."

Realizing the bath water was only adding to Richie's hysteria, Duncan tried to reach for the drain release with his foot, unwilling to let go of the young man for a minute. Feeling the presence of another Immortal, Duncan shouted, "Methos! Hurry up!"

Finally, Methos appeared in the bathroom, arms loaded with candles.

"Put those down," Duncan ordered. "And release the drain, will you? He thinks he's going to drown."

Without a word, Methos did as he was asked. He then returned to the candles, lighting a half dozen of them.

Duncan, in the meantime, had turned back to Richie. "See, Richie, the water's going down. You're not going to drown. You're safe, now. See, there's plenty of light."

Richie's struggles slowed down, although Duncan wasn't sure if it was his reassurances or if the young Immortal had started to run out of steam. Duncan slowly loosened his grip on Richie's arms, waiting for a moment to see if he would try to escape. When the young man remained where he was, the Scot reached down and gently lifted him from the tub, setting the shivering young man on a towel before grabbing another one to dry him off. Methos dashed in to the bedroom and returned with a blanket, which they wrapped around Richie.

"Richie? Are you all right? Can you hear me?" Duncan reached out and cupped his friend's face between both of his hands. The blue eyes stared right through him, causing the Highlander to wonder if this had been the final straw to break Richie's sanity. Not knowing what to do, Duncan wrapped his arms around the young man and looked at Methos helplessly.

The older Immortal sighed and knelt down beside Duncan. Calmly, he reached out and slapped Richie across the face several times. The Highlander flinched with each smack, tightening his hold around the young Immortal. Getting no response, Methos stood up.

"There's only one other thing I can think of," Methos said. "We'll have to kill him."

"NO! I won't let you take his head!" Duncan protested vehemently, anger filling his voice. "Don't even think it!"

"I meant temporarily, MacLeod. The shock of coming back to life might bring him out of this. I'll be back in a minute," he said before leaving the room.

Duncan continued to hold Richie tightly, rocking slightly and saying his name, hoping for some response. None came. The Scot felt the touch of the returning Methos, and, a split second later, Richie must have, too. The young Immortal struggled in Duncan's arms as his survival instinct kicked in.

"Richie, take it easy," Duncan said in a soothing voice. "It's just Methos. He won't hurt you. I won't let him hurt you."

"Mac?" Richie asked in a quavering voice, ceasing his struggles.

"Yes, Richie, it's me. And Methos," he added when the older Immortal came back in the room carrying a knife which he quickly laid down when he heard the young Immortal speak.

"Mac, it's dark."

Duncan could feel Richie trembling in his arms. "I know. But look at the counter. See all the candles burning? There's plenty of light."

The young man turned his head and stared at the candles. "Yes. I see them. Can't you turn the lights on? Please?"

"I'm sorry, Richie. A power line must have been knocked down in the storm. All we have are the flashlights and the candles. How do you feel?" Duncan asked.

"Cold. A little sore. What happened?"

Duncan explained.

"Did... did I hurt anyone?"

"No, Richie, you didn't. Do you think you can stand?"

"Yeah, I think so." With Duncan's help, he rose to his feet. The Scot steered him toward his bedroom, but Richie came to an abrupt stop at the bathroom doorway. "It's dark in there."

"Just a second," Duncan said. "I'll grab a flashlight."

"No." Methos blocked his hand. "Richie has to learn to face his fears. Otherwise, this will happen again."

"Not tonight. He doesn't have to do it tonight," Duncan protested, resting his hands on Richie's shoulders. He could feel the tremors running through the young Immortal.

"Trust me on this, MacLeod. This may be the best time." Methos edged around the Scot and the young man until he was in front of them. He took one of Richie's hands. "Listen to me. Tell me why you're afraid."

"It's dark!" Richie cried out.

"Not good enough. You know the dark won't hurt you. Why are you afraid?"

"I can't see anything," Richie replied, his voice quavering noticeably.

"Can you see me?" Methos asked.

Richie nodded slowly.

"Tell me why you're afraid!" Methos ordered. "Tell me!"

"I... I can't get out. It's dark. I'm... I'm all..." The ragged voice broke off.

Duncan felt the trembling increase beneath his hands. "Methos!" he growled out a warning, fearing for Richie's sanity. "Enough."

Methos persisted. "You're all what, Richie? All alone?"

"Yeeeeessssss! I'm all alone!" The cry was heart-wrenching and Duncan responded by wrapping his arms around Richie once again.

"You're not alone, Richie. I'm here," Duncan said.

"And I am, too," Methos added, in a gentler voice than the Highlander had ever heard him use before. "Richie, it's time to move past this. There's nothing here to frighten you. Nothing at all. You have friends close by, willing to help, but you have to make that first step. Walk into this room. It's dark, but you should be able to see enough now that your eyes have adjusted. We'll be right here beside you."

Duncan kept his arms around Richie until he felt the trembling ease up. "You can do this, Richie. I know you can." He wasn't really certain, but could only hope Methos was right.

Richie took a ragged breath. "I can do this," he said, but he still didn't move.

"C'mon, Richie. Your bed is waiting for you. Wouldn't you like to lie down and go to sleep for a while?" Methos said.

"Yeah, I'm tired," Richie mumbled. He took a few faltering steps before stopping to look back. "Mac?" he asked, reaching out a hand.

Duncan stepped forward and joined hands with the young Immortal. "I'm right here, Richie." Hand-in-hand, they walked the rest of the way to bed. The Scot pulled Richie into a brief hug. "I'm proud of you," he said gruffly. "You did it."

Richie crawled into the bed, blanket still wrapped around him. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course I will," Duncan said, as he worked the bedcovers out from underneath Richie before tucking them securely around him. "Go to sleep. I'll be here."

Richie sighed and closed his eyes.

Methos went back into the bathroom and blew out all the candles before returning. He handed one of the flashlights to Duncan. "You might need this. It won't be safe to leave him alone."

"I'm not leaving him," Duncan replied, setting the flashlight on the nightstand.

"All right. I'll come back later and check on you."

An hour later, Richie woke with a scream. Duncan rushed to his side and held him tightly until his trembling stopped. It didn't take long before he was nodding off to sleep again. The performance was repeated an hour later. As exhaustion crept in, the Scot decided to climb in next to Richie, and pulled him into his arms. That way if the young Immortal woke again, Duncan knew he would wake also. He let his eyes drift shut.

Bright sunlight woke Duncan the next morning. He looked down at the curly hair of his friend, tousled and tangled from the previous night, and smiled gently. There had been no more nightmares.

Hearing the door start to open, Duncan looked up, expecting to see Methos. Instead it was Mrs. Bricker, carrying a tray. The Scot felt warmth climb over his cheeks as he realized how this would look to her. He quickly tried to scramble out of bed.

"Mrs. Bricker, this isn't... It's not... I mean..." Duncan couldn't seem to put a coherent sentence together.

"I know," she said with a smile, crossing the room to the bedside. "Adam warned me that Richie had another bad spell last night. And how you didn't want to leave him alone in case he had another seizure. I've brought you breakfast."

Duncan's attempts to get untangled from the covers were enough to wake Richie up. He opened his eyes blearily, then stretched. When his hand hit another chest, he spun around. "Mac! What are you doing in my bed?"

Mrs. Bricker laughed as Duncan turned red again. "I'd like to stay for this explanation," she said. "But, I don't want to ruin everyone else's breakfast." She sat the tray down on the bed and left the room.

The young Immortal picked up the tray and brought it closer. "Umm. Pancakes." He handed a plate to Duncan. "Here, eat first before it gets cold and then you can tell me all about it."

* HL * HL * HL When bedtime rolled around again, Duncan went to Richie's room and found the young Immortal reading in bed. "Richie, I want you to try to go to sleep without lights on again tonight. I'll stay with you."

"Are you going to climb in bed with me again?" Richie asked with a tremulous grin.

"Let's see if we can skip that part tonight," Duncan suggested. "I'd hate to shock Mrs. Bricker again."

"Can't we wait a few days before we try it again?"

"No, Richie. It's better to keep at it. You can do this." Duncan pulled a chair over so it was right next to the bed, and sat down in it.

Richie sighed, but put the book down on the nightstand. He crawled under the covers and pulled them up around his neck. "Okay, Mac, I'm ready."

"Try to relax, Richie. You'll never go to sleep that way!" Duncan said in exasperation, as he took in the sheet tightly clutched in the young man's hands. "Take a deep breath and hold it. Great. Now, let it out..."

The young Immortal followed the Highlander's instructions and Duncan watched as he finally relaxed. "All right, Richie. Just remember - everything's fine. I'm going to shut the light off now." Slowly, he reached for the switch.

Richie tensed for a moment, then relaxed again. "Talk to me, Mac. Just for a while," he said once the light was off.

Wanting to keep it light-hearted, Duncan started talking about his trip to Moscow with Amanda, and life in the circus.

Richie chuckled several times, but grew quieter as time passed. Duncan finally stopped talking and waited to see if any complaint came. Silence. Getting as comfortable as he could, the Scot proceeded to fall asleep himself.

For the next week, Duncan repeated his nightly ritual. After three nights, he went back to his own room after Richie had fallen asleep. Over that time, there were several nightmares, when Richie would wake up with a cry, but he usually managed to go back to sleep fairly quickly.

One night, Duncan didn't go upstairs until much later. He had been too involved in a game of chess with Methos to notice the time passing. It wasn't until Joe had wished them a good night that he had realized just how late it was. He fully expected to find Richie still awake, and was shocked when he got to his own bedroom and noticed the light was off in the young Immortal's room. Quietly, he walked through the bathroom, turning the light on for illumination, and peered inside. Richie appeared to be sound asleep.

Duncan silently moved across the room and looked down at the sleeping figure. The dim light from the bathroom revealed the young Immortal's face. In repose, there were no indications of the many traumas that Richie had suffered. In fact, his face had filled out nicely - even if his body hadn't caught up yet - and it was like looking at the young man as he had been three years ago. The Highlander knew it was his eyes that made Richie seem older. Eyes that showed the pain and horrors deep inside. Eyes that would never look innocent again - at least not to anyone who knew him.

With a sigh of regret for what might have been if things had happened differently, Duncan returned to his room.

* HL * HL *

A noise woke Duncan from a sound sleep, and he listened carefully, trying to identify what it had been. Glancing over at the alarm clock, he noticed that it was just after two a.m. With a sigh, he decided he'd better check to see if Richie was okay. He grabbed his robe and shrugged into it, tying the belt tightly before sliding his feet into slippers.

Duncan didn't bother to turn on any lights - there was a full moon out and it illuminated the way to Richie's bedroom. It also clearly showed the empty bed. "Damn!" the Scot cursed. "Now what?"

He dashed back to his room to get his katana, then headed for Methos' room. Not bothering to knock, he barged in and shook the older man's shoulder. "Methos, wake up. Richie's missing."

"That's nice," Methos mumbled, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head.

"Methos! You've got to help me find him," Duncan insisted as he grabbed the pillow. "C'mon, we're wasting time. I have no idea how long he's been gone."

Methos grumbled for a moment under his breath before climbing out of bed. "I swear I'm going to take that boy's head myself! Put us all out of our misery."

Duncan ignored his statement, knowing Methos wouldn't carry through with his threat. "Let's go." He led the way toward the back stairs. Halfway down, he felt the touch of another Immortal and picked up the pace.

The Highlander burst into the kitchen, and came to a abrupt stop that caused Methos to slam into his back.

"Hey, next time signal if you're going to stop," Methos complained.

"Hey, Mac, Methos. What are you two doing up?" Richie asked from the kitchen table.

"I might ask you the same question. You're supposed to be in bed," Duncan stated.

Richie waved a half-eaten sandwich. "I was hungry."

Methos made some comment under his breath about getting his sword, and Duncan sighed. "Why didn't you turn a light on, then?"

Richie shrugged. "I guess I didn't think about it. I could see just fine, so there didn't seem to be much reason to do it."

"*I* am going back to bed," Methos stated. "*Some* of us like to get a good night's sleep." Still muttering, he headed for the stairs.

"So, Mac, you never told me. Why were you and Methos up?"

"Something woke me, and when I checked out your room, I found an empty bed. Considering what we've been through lately, I thought you'd had another flashback and had taken off again."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, Mac. I just wanted something to eat."

"That's all right, Richie. It just gave me a scare, that's all. I'm going back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"'Night, Mac," Richie replied.

Duncan was almost back to his room when a thought suddenly struck him. He whirled around and almost ran back down to the kitchen.

Richie was foraging in the refrigerator and turned around, holding an apple in his hands. "Mac? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Duncan replied, grinning broadly. "Don't you realize what you did, Richie?"

The young Immortal looked confused and shook his head.

"You woke up, in the dark, and came all the way down here, in the dark." Duncan paused for a moment. "You did it *in the dark*!"

It still took a moment before Richie understood what the Highlander was saying, then his face lit up with a brilliant grin. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. I'm proud of you, lad," Duncan said gruffly.

The darkness couldn't hide the sudden rush of color to Richie's face. "Thanks, Mac," he choked out.

Duncan slid an arm around the young Immortal's shoulders and squeezed lightly. "You ready to go back to bed now?"

Richie nodded. "As long as I can take my apple with me."

"Sure, Richie. Anything you want."

* HL * HL * HL

Time seemed to fly by for Richie. He could hardly believe it had been six weeks since he'd conquered his fear of the dark. Well, almost conquered it - there had been a few flashbacks here and there when he walked into a dark room. He still had an occasional nightmare, but he seldom remembered what they were about.

Richie had even been working on his claustrophobia until he could now close both bathroom doors without panicking. He wasn't ready to face a small dark room, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't freak out if he had to get on an elevator alone.

His training was going well, too. He could lift the same amount of weight as he had back in high school and Duncan had told him his swordwork was coming along fine, as well. The one thing he really needed to work on was stamina. He tired so quickly during their workouts. There was still no way he could face another Immortal - not unless the fight only lasted a few minutes.

Richie sighed as he looked out at the gardens from his balcony. He had dreaded this day for a long time, but he had run out of options. He'd been frantically trying to come up with valid reasons for Duncan to do this one last thing for him but, somehow, he had the feeling the Highlander would refuse his request.

Deciding he had stalled long enough, Richie went in search of the Scot. He found him in the library, working on his laptop computer.

"Hey, Mac, I need a favor," Richie blurted out.

"Sure, Richie. What is it?" Duncan asked absentmindedly.

"Would you go into town and buy some new clothes for me? You can just get the next two larger sizes and that should be plenty for now. I'd go with you, but I really need to get back to my training and this wouldn't be a good time to slack off on that and I knew you wouldn't mind especially since you have to go to town anyway and thanks, Mac." Richie turned to leave the room.

"Hold it!" Duncan ordered. "Come back here."

Richie slowly turned, feeling like a school kid who'd been called to the principal's office. "Yeah, Mac?"

"Let me see if I got that straight. You rattled that off so fast, I'm not sure if I caught it all," Duncan said with a frown. "First, you need new clothes, correct?"

Richie nodded.

"And you want *me* to go buy them for you?"

"Yeah, and thanks, Mac. I'd really appreciate it." Richie spun around again, intent on escaping while he could.

"No."

Duncan's one word response stopped Richie in his tracks. He turned around again, feeling like a spinning top. "But you said you'd do me a favor, Mac," the young Immortal pleaded.

"I *am* doing you a favor, Richie," Duncan replied. "You can't hide away forever. You've turned down every outing we've suggested to you where you might have run into people. It's time to face this and move on."

"They'll stare at me, Mac," Richie said, fighting to hold back tears.

The Highlander sighed. "Come with me, Richie." He led the young man up to the bathroom. "Look in the mirror - really look. You've put on almost twenty pounds since the last trip to town."

"I'm too thin," Richie complained.

"Yes, you are thin, but you're no longer *too* thin. There's a difference, Richie. Your face has filled out nicely and your arms don't resemble sticks anymore. You no longer look like you got off your death bed to walk around for a while." Duncan grinned at Richie's reflection.

"All right, Mac. But if we have to go, let's go now and get it over with," Richie said with a grimace.

"Let me change clothes and then we'll leave. Why don't you go find Joe or Methos and let them know where we're going?"

Ten minutes later, Duncan joined Richie out by the car. He tossed the keys to the young Immortal. "Here, you drive."

"Really?" Richie smiled. "I can drive?"

"Why not? You have enough strength to do that now. Just take it easy for a while. It's been a long time since you've been behind the wheel of a car," Duncan warned him.

At first, Richie felt awkward and tense as he drove the car down the road, but soon it all came back to him and he was able to relax. Just before they reached town, he pulled off at a gas station. "Mac, you'd better drive the rest of the way. I'm not sure I'm ready for city driving yet."

"That's probably a good idea, Richie. I hadn't thought of that."

They quickly switched positions. Now that Richie didn't have to concentrate on his driving, he began to worry again. As they got closer to the shopping district, the young Immortal made a pledge to himself. It didn't matter what any stranger might think of him. The most important person in his life didn't care how he looked. He'd make Duncan proud of him today, even if he wanted to crawl in a hole and bury himself to hide from everyone.

This time they weren't lucky enough to find a close parking space. Duncan finally found a spot almost four blocks away. Richie didn't care. It was a nice day and he knew he could easily handle the distance, now. They window shopped as they strolled down the streets, but neither of them saw anything to tempt them to go into a store.

With a sinking heart, Richie looked up at the storefront that was their destination. With leaden feet, he followed Duncan to the men's wear department. The young Immortal almost bolted from the store when he saw the same sales clerk was on duty again. Nicole. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the clothes racks.

A few moments later, a female voice interrupted his search.

"Bonjour," she said in French. "May I help you find something?"

Richie looked over at the person standing next to him and was shocked to find Nicole there, smiling brightly. "No. I can manage on my own," he replied before turning his back on her. He knew he'd just been extremely rude, but he really didn't care. She obviously didn't recognize him from his last trip in.

That thought caused Richie to pause. Maybe Duncan was right. Maybe he was looking better. With a lighter heart, he resumed his clothes search. It took him several trips to the dressing room before he was happy with the fit of the new jeans. Pleased to find he had moved back up to men's sizes, he picked out several extra pairs. By the time he was done, he had six pairs of jeans picked out, with only two of them being loose-fitting. Duncan had warned him that he'd have to fight to add on more inches and weight from this point forward, since he was burning up more calories the more he was exercising. Therefore, the clothes should fit for quite some time and he could justify the expense.

Before he knew it, Richie had a pile of clothes picked out to buy. Pants, jeans, shirts, underwear, pajamas, and a new robe all sat on the counter, neatly folded by Nicole. For a moment, the young Immortal paused as he mentally figured out the cost. He took out the credit card Duncan had given him and looked at his friend. "Are you sure about this, Mac? It's an awful lot of money."

Duncan just smiled indulgently and added some sweat clothes for the young Immortal to the stack.

With a slightly shaking hand, Richie handed the charge card to Nicole. She let their fingers meet when she took it, and he jerked his hand back as if he'd been burned. With a wry smile, he realized he *had* been burned the last time by her treatment.

She quickly rang up his purchases and handed him the charge slip to sign. When he handed it back, she smiled very prettily and asked for his phone number. She blushed lightly and quickly added it was needed for the store records.

Richie realized that two years ago he would have fallen over himself trying to give this girl his phone number. Now, here she was asking for it, using the purchase as an excuse. It was a great ego boost, because she hadn't needed it the last time he was here, so why should she need it now? "No, I don't think so," Richie replied, shortly.

Her face took on a crestfallen expression and, for a moment, Richie almost gave in and told her what it was. He remembered one of his other many promises he'd made in the dark confines of his prison, and decided it was time to start on that one, too. He planned on being much more selective when it came to girlfriends from this point on. He wouldn't let himself be driven by his hormones anymore. He was an adult - almost 25 now - it was time he started acting like it.

"Give me a hand here, Mac," Richie said, as he started to pick up all the packages. They started out of the store together, laden down with the young Immortal's purchases. "So, where are we gonna eat at?"

* HL * HL *

Now that Richie was no longer afraid of meeting people, life became more fun. At least once a week they went out to dinner and then on to a local bar. Sometimes, it was just himself and Mac and, other times, Methos or Joe would join them. A few times Mrs. Bricker joined the party as well. Richie always found plenty of dance partners and usually had a good time talking to the young women, but he never met anyone he wanted to seriously date. It was probably a good thing, since he couldn't envision Duncan letting him go out on his own yet.

* HL * HL *

One day, a little over a month later, Duncan called him into the library and told him to take a seat. The young Immortal had no idea what the problem was, but he didn't think he was going to like it. He chose the chair next to the fireplace and, once seated, found himself looking directly at the Scot.

"Richie, it's time to make a decision," Duncan started out. He raised his hand when the young Immortal started to speak. "Let me finish. My lease on the house will expire next month and we need to figure out what to do. I could extend it for another six months, or we could go someplace else. It's up to you."

"Has it really been that long, Mac?" Richie asked, confusion filling him. "It doesn't seem possible."

"Six months have gone by since you returned to us, Richie," Duncan said. "It's been a long journey back, but it's been worth it. You still have a long way to go, but you've come a long way, too."

"Thanks, Mac. I don't know what I would have done without you. And, for that matter, Methos and Joe, too."

"You would have managed, Richie. I don't have any doubts about that."

Richie felt a warm glow fill him. "Maybe. But your help has made it easier. I know this has cost you a lot of money and I really appreciate that. I know, I know," he added when Duncan started to protest. "The money isn't the important thing and I agree. What is important is that you've given me your time and attention to help me through this. More than anything else, you've helped me feel human again. You've made me feel important and worthwhile and that my life was worth saving. And, most important of all, you've made me feel... ." Richie paused for a moment and took a deep breath before plunging on, "loved. I know you're not my father, but you're the closest I've ever come to having one. And I just wanted to let you know that." Richie had to stop talking because of the lump in his throat.

Duncan sat there for a long moment, without moving or saying anything. His face was a blank mask and Richie feared he'd gone too far. The young Immortal jumped to his feet and went over to stare out the French doors. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A firm hand on his shoulder turned him around and Richie found himself enclosed in a fierce embrace. His own arms reached around Duncan to return it.

"And you are the son I've never had," Duncan whispered gruffly in Richie's ear.

"Ohhh. Excuse me!" Mrs. Bricker's voice drew them apart. They caught a glimpse of her shocked face before she spun around and dashed out of the room, leaving behind the two Immortals who stared at each other.

Richie couldn't help it - he burst out laughing. He couldn't decide whose expression had been funnier - Mrs. Bricker's or Duncan's.

"Give it up, Mac," Richie finally said when he got his mirth under control. "Your secret is out. You might as well come out of the closet."

Duncan glowered at the young Immortal. "In case you didn't notice, you've also been found out." He sat back down in his chair and motioned for Richie to resume his seat. "Now, if we could get back to the original conversation. I think we can rule out renewing the lease here. I don't think Mrs. Bricker will ever be the same again. Is there somewhere else you'd like to go?"

Richie thought about it for a while. "Well, I guess what makes the most sense would be for us to go to your island. You wouldn't have to stay with me all the time there, since it's holy ground. All you'd have to do is bring out supplies on a regular basis."

"Yes, that would make the most sense," Duncan agreed. "But why do I feel like the next word is going to be 'but'?"

Richie flushed. "It's just that the island is so isolated. I'm just getting used to being around people again - I mean other than my friends. I don't know what else to suggest, though. The dojo loft isn't big enough for the two of us and I don't want you spending a lot of money, either. And, somehow, I doubt you'll let me get my own place."

Duncan frowned. "Not yet. Maybe in six more months. Besides, you can't afford rent, and you can't keep up your exercises if you're busy working. I do have one other possibility," he warned, his voice dubious.

"What?"

"Do you remember my friend Matt Dunkirk?"

Richie shook his head.

"He was the one who invited us down to the Caribbean for his 500th birthday party. The same trip where the plane was hijacked."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. Those creeps thought I was the airline owner's son. The first part of the trip was pretty bad, Mac, but the rest of it was nice - despite the fact that I couldn't go swimming. So, what about him?"

"I talked to him yesterday and he's offered his house to us. He's going to be traveling for a while, so he won't be there. I just wanted to make sure it wouldn't bring back too many bad memories."

"No, not for me, Mac, but what about you? Tessa was there with us, too."

"I know. I still miss her, Richie, but it doesn't hurt as much anymore. I can go places that I've been with her and remember the good times."

"So can I, Mac. Let's do it!" Richie said with a grin.

"I'll call him back and let him know we're coming."

"What about Joe and Methos?"

"There's plenty of room for them if they're interested in coming. We can ask them once I check back with Matt."

* HL * HL *

Richie sighed as he took in the festive table decorations. This would be their last meal together for some time to come. Joe had refused the invitation, claiming he needed to attend to Watcher business. He promised to try to join them later. He'd already informed them that the research would remain their secret for a while longer but, sooner or later, others might come up with the same conclusions he had.

Methos had also turned down the invitation. He didn't offer any reason, but he'd told Duncan that Richie didn't need a constant bodyguard anymore. While he might not be able to take on another Immortal, he was strong enough to get to holy ground on his own.

Mrs. Bricker had agreed to join them for this meal. She'd been very cool for a few days after finding Duncan and Richie hugging in the library, but she'd gotten over it when there were no more incidents.

Richie went around the table, placing a small box by each of the place settings. A few minutes later everyone else joined him.

"What's this?" Duncan asked as he looked at the gaily-wrapped box by his place setting.

"Open it and find out," Richie said, squirming a little in his chair. "That goes for the rest of you, as well. Consider it a thank you gift."

Everyone else reached for their boxes and started to unwrap them. Duncan finished first and found a carved wooden figurine of an eagle in his. Joe found an owl, Mrs. Bricker found a swan, and Methos found a dove.

"Where did you find these?" Duncan asked as he examined the carving. He swapped his piece with Joe's and looked the owl over. "They're very beautiful."

"I *made* them," Richie replied proudly. "Adam showed me how to whittle and carve, and I've been working on them in secret."

"You did a great job," Joe said. "Thank you, Richie. I'll treasure this for the rest of my life."

The others added their thanks and Richie beamed at the praise.

The dinner proceeded, and the young Immortal couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Everyone seemed to be putting themselves out to make this a joyous occasion, but Richie couldn't quite forget that tomorrow they would be saying good-bye.

* HL * HL

The next morning came way too soon. Richie closed up his suitcase, carried it downstairs, and set it by the front door. He'd already said his good-byes to Mrs. Bricker. She'd been tearful throughout, and had hugged the young man briefly before returning to the kitchen.

Richie wandered into the library and found Joe placing some papers in his briefcase. "Hey, Joe. You ready to go?"

"Almost, Richie. How are you holding up?"

"I don't know. I'm ready to move on, but then again, I'm not. I'm going to miss you. I'm going to miss this place."

"That's understandable. It's always hard to take that first step, but I'm sure in a few days you'll feel right at home. Next thing you know, you'll be chasing all the girls around the beach," Joe said with a grin.

Richie laughed. "Probably. Take care of yourself, Joe." The young man hugged the Watcher.

"And you watch your head," Joe replied.

"I will, Joe."

The Watcher shut his briefcase and walked back out to the hallway with Richie. Methos had just come down the stairs carrying his own suitcase.

"You ready, Joe?" he asked.

"All set. We just have to load up the boxes and the computer."

"I'll help," Richie offered.

With the car loaded, the young Immortal turned to the oldest one.

"Let's not get all sickeningly sweet here," Methos warned. "I'm not into group hugs or anything like that. Take care of yourself, kid."

Richie laughed. "Take care of yourself, old man."

Joe and Methos climbed into the car and Richie watched them drive away. Duncan came out of the house and walked over to him.

"You ready?" he asked, placing one arm around Richie's shoulders.

Richie took a deep breath and looked back at the house. It was time to move on, time to begin another journey. "Sure, Mac. Let's go."

Epilogue

One year later

Duncan roamed around Joe's bar, unable to relax, unable to just sit and wait. Thankfully, it was after closing so he didn't have to worry about the rest of the patrons thinking him crazy. Although that pretty well described his feelings right now.

He and Richie had come back to Seacouver six months ago. The young Immortal had regained most of his weight and was in even better condition than before this whole mess had taken place. But, this was the first challenge that Richie had faced since Kristov. Duncan tried to tell himself not to worry, but he couldn't help it.

The Scot had wanted to go face the other Immortal, but the young Immortal wouldn't let him. It had been Richie who had been challenged, and he'd made it quite clear that he wouldn't let Duncan fight his battles for him.

"Can't you call Richie's Watcher and find out what's happening?" Duncan asked Joe. "They were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago. The fight shouldn't have taken this long."

"Take it easy, MacLeod," Joe said. "If there was something to report, he would have called in. Maybe the other Immortal was late. Besides, you wouldn't want a cell phone ringing to distract him during a fight."

Duncan slumped onto a bar stool. "You're right, Joe. It's just..."

"You're worried. I know. So am I, but I checked out this guy. He only goes after youngsters. I think Richie will be a real surprise to him." Joe reached for the bottle of scotch and poured Duncan another drink.

The Highlander picked up the glass and drained it in two gulps. "I should have sent him away. I should never have become close to Richie again. If he doesn't make it... I don't know if I'll be able to handle it, Joe." Duncan shook his head.

"You'll handle it, just like you've handled all the rest. It won't be easy, but you live each day, one day at a time. After a while, it will stop hurting." Joe paused for a moment. "Be honest, MacLeod. If you could go back to that day eighteen months ago, knowing what you know now, would you do it all over again? Or would you send him away?"

Duncan looked down into his empty glass, then sighed. "I'd do it all over again. It's just hard to remember the good times when you're busy worrying. And we've had a lot of good times to remember."

"I thought so," Joe replied with a knowing grin.

The sudden loud ringing of the telephone caused both of them to jump. Joe reached for it and Duncan waited with bated breath for the news. Finally, the Watcher hung up and reached for the scotch bottle again. He refilled Duncan's glass and filled one for himself.

Duncan felt his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach. It couldn't be good news or Joe would have said so, right away.

Joe picked up his glass and saluted Duncan with it. "Cheers, MacLeod. Richie won the fight and he's doing okay. He should be here soon. Apparently, his Watcher forgot to charge his cell phone and had to find a pay phone to call in."

"Damn you, Dawson!" Duncan complained. "You had me going there for a minute. I really thought Richie hadn't made it."

Joe shrugged and gave him an unrepentant grin.

Duncan stood up quickly and looked toward the front door. A moment later it opened, revealing a grinning Richie. The Highlander met him halfway across the room and pulled him into a hug.

"Welcome back, Richie."

The End.


End file.
